


One

by julien (julie)



Category: due South
Genre: Episode: s01e11 You Must Remember This, Episode: s01e20-21 Victoria's Secret, Eventual Happy Ending, F/M, HIV/AIDS, Love, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1997-11-20
Updated: 1997-11-20
Packaged: 2021-02-22 16:55:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 28,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22886269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/julie/pseuds/julien
Summary: Twenty-three-year-old Benton Fraser knows little of love when he first meets Victoria Metcalfe – and he is still learning when she crashes back into his life ten years later. The problem being that she seems determined to destroy any chance he has of love with the only other person in his life who he cares about as deeply.
Relationships: Benton Fraser/Ray Vecchio, Benton Fraser/Victoria Metcalf
Kudos: 1





	One

**Author's Note:**

> **Notes:** My thanks to Barbara, who had the idea that sparked all this off and then generously let me run with it – and also to mutual friends for their thoughts and encouragement. The title is borrowed from the beautiful song of the same name by U2, which is all directly relevant to the story.
> 
> This was written back in the late ’90s, and reflects what was known of HIV/AIDS at the time. 
> 
> The story features a number of _Due South_ episodes, but revolves around "Victoria's Secret" and the foreshadowing in "You Must Remember This".
> 
> **First published:** 20 November 1997 in my zine Pure Maple Syrup 7.

# One 

♦

## PART ONE: 1984

Constable Benton Fraser stood at the foot of the grave and considered the casket lying in the raw earth six feet below. His grandmother, Patricia Fraser, had died two days ago – and while she’d had the most austere of souls, Benton’s world was colder for her loss. For all the difficulties of her manner, Patricia had loved her family fiercely, and her devotion to Benton was second only to her bond with her husband, John. Benton hadn’t been surprised to hear that she’d followed his grandfather to the next stage of their journey within a year of the old man’s death. Sad, of course, but not surprised.

Having been brought up amidst his grandparent’s simple Protestant beliefs, his mother’s more colorful Catholicism, and the Inuit’s intrinsic spirituality, Benton was sure of one thing – that there was more to his existence in the universe than this one brief life. He had no idea what might await him beyond death, but it felt good to contemplate the notion that his grandparents may somehow be reunited now.

Benton’s father, Sergeant Robert Fraser, approached him as the other mourners began drifting away. Robert, of course, was resplendent in his dress uniform – and even though Benton was wearing exactly the same clothes, he felt shabby by comparison with this quintessential Mountie.

The two men nodded a silent greeting, and shook hands, before Robert turned to share Benton’s contemplation of the grave and the coffin lying in it. Wistfully, Benton recognized that he wanted something more from Robert, but father and son had never been demonstrative. If they were to try now, no doubt Patricia would spin in her freshly-dug grave.

Caroline, Benton’s mother, had been all warmth and affection for her only child. But she had died when he was six, barely old enough then for him to remember her now. John Fraser had been affectionate, too: a gentle presence with few words; meticulous and quiet and patient in all he turned his hand to.

Benton had learned from these people, but it was just him and his father now, both of them solitary souls who rarely saw each other more than once or twice a year. From Benton’s perspective, the world had been… emptying of late. Even his Inuit mentor, Grandpa Tadoussac, had passed away though he’d been the kind of ancient who seemed immortal. Most if not all of Benton’s younger friends – Inuit, white, other, and those in-between – had moved on. The young man wasn’t entirely sure where that left him.

He was a Mountie, maybe that was the only answer Benton needed. He was endeavoring to become as good a Mountie as his father. Which was a virtually impossible goal, but Benton was prepared to devote his heart and soul, his body and mind to striving for such an ideal. In the meantime…

In the meantime, Benton Fraser was feeling very much alone.

He let out a breath, and indicated to his father that perhaps they should move on. The two of them were holding up the work of the grave-diggers.

♦

As far as Benton could tell, no one at work had taken much heed of his absence. In fact, his colleagues barely acknowledged his return; apparently they were absorbed by the radio detection and ranging equipment, though it seemed to have nothing to display.

He’d been posted here immediately after graduation, two weeks and a day after his grandfather John had died… Benton had been stationed here at Temperance for just over ten months now, and this was the first time he’d taken any leave. Feeling bad about that, despite having the most justifiable of reasons to absent himself, Benton knew he was inclined to project that guilt onto his colleagues, and imagine them resentful.

Benton sat at his desk, maintaining an unruffled demeanor. His fellow officers weren’t resentful; that didn’t explain their behavior towards him. It was simply that, try as he might, Benton seemed unable to build a rapport with any of them. After all this time he still wondered why.

Sifting through his in-tray, Benton found a great deal of work demanding his attention. Duties here in the Yukon were necessarily broad, as the RCMP provided all the policing for the Territory. While the Yukon’s population wasn’t overly numerous, and was mainly centered around the capital Whitehorse, an outpost such as Temperance certainly kept Benton and his four colleagues fully occupied. For a start, they were located close to the international border that Canada shared with Alaska, which provided its own tasks and priorities. And then there were the three rival mining companies scattered nearby, causing more unrest than might be expected.

Swiveling his chair to reach for the top drawer of his filing cabinet, Benton’s eye was caught by the framed photo of his father in his dress reds; Benton had hung it on the wall behind his desk for inspiration. It belatedly occurred to him that he was taller than Robert Fraser now; he’d been looking down at the man’s face as they met by Patricia’s grave. At twenty-three years of age, Benton had finally noticed this…

Taller than his revered role model. Benton didn’t know quite what to make of that fact. Surely it was nothing more than an insignificant detail, a random and inevitable result of different combinations of genes… And yet, oddly, the notion dizzied him. It seemed to underline the fact that everything was changing, his world was emptying, and Benton was no longer quite sure where he fit, or if he fit anywhere at all.

Benton pulled the cabinet open with a firm hand. Really, he told himself in Patricia’s severe tones; this way self-pity lies.

The front doors swung open, letting in a swirl of cold air and snowflakes, despite the double-door airlock arrangement. Benton looked up to see his supervisor, Sergeant Wright, stride in. ‘What have you got for me, people?’ he demanded while shrugging and peeling off his outer layer of clothes. It seemed that the weather was closing in, for the Sergeant’s whiskers were frosted with ice, presumably as a result of the ten-foot walk from his parking space.

‘Lost them, sir, but I figure not for long.’

‘How’s that?’

‘They must be getting close to the St Jude range by now, sir; they’ll have to fly higher to get over the mountains, and the radar will pick them up again.’

‘Good…’

Well, this explained why everyone else had been hovering around the radar equipment. Curious, Benton joined them, just in time to see the blip recommence. A general, ‘Ah!’ was voiced. After three sweeps of the radar, it became apparent that the plane was heading into Canada from the United States. ‘An airspace violation, sir?’ Benton asked for the sake of confirmation.

‘More than that,’ Wright informed him. ‘We have reports of two or three bank robbers fleeing from Fort Jesse, Alaska in a light plane. The pilot on this plane won’t respond to radioed requests for identification, so we’re assuming it’s them.’

‘Ah,’ said Benton.

‘I’ll try again, now they’re over the border,’ one of the other Constables suggested. She sat by the radio equipment, ensured it was tuned into the frequency used for emergencies, and picked up the handset. ‘This is the RCMP at Temperance, calling the American plane that recently entered Canadian airspace. Do you read me? Over.’ Nothing but static replied. She tried again on various frequencies.

‘I don’t know,’ muttered the Constable sitting at the radar. ‘If he’s wanting Whitehorse, he’s too far north.’

‘No, he’ll be wanting a quieter place to land, somewhere there’s no one to ask questions.’

Benton agreed with this assessment, though he stood back from the discussion, not wanting to impose.

Wright gestured at the visual static on the radar screen, and observed, ‘He’s trying to go around that storm.’

‘It must be a nasty one, if we’re getting the tail-end of it here…’

Silence descended as the group of officers watched the blip make slow progress in a north-north-easterly direction. The woman on the radio was repeating, ‘This is Temperance RCMP, calling the American plane flying over the St Jude range. Please respond. Over.’

‘He’s not going to make it,’ one of the others said, finally voicing what they’d all been fearing.

‘Try contacting them on the emergency channel again,’ Sergeant Wright ordered. ‘Tell them they’d better put down at the nearest airfield they can find, and quickly.’

Benton offered, ‘That would be Deliverance, sir, though even that might be beyond their reach.’

It was already too late. The blip dropped off the radar screen, and soon afterwards the radio static was broken by the pilot’s distress call. ‘Mayday. Mayday. This is Charlie Tango Zulu two three nine. We’re going down, the engines –’ Which was when the signal broke up.

‘Temperance here. What is your location?’ No reply. ‘Charlie Tango Zulu, give me your location.’ Nothing. ‘Charlie Tango Zulu, what is your condition?’

The officers all stared at the radio as if willing the static to clear, to resolve into a voice. Nothing.

‘Poor idiots,’ Wright said. ‘Well, people, get yourselves ready. Once the storm’s passed we’ll send a team out. Any volunteers? I don’t want to send more than two – perhaps three, under the circumstances.’

Benton frowned. ‘Excuse me, sir, the storm might last for hours, even days.’

‘Yes, Constable, it might.’

‘These people could be dead by then.’

Wright looked very steadily at Benton. This was the directness that the Sergeant always used when trying to – as he put it – talk sense into his staff. ‘Any officers I send after them could be dead by then, too. I don’t like making these kinds of decisions, Fraser, but sometimes there’s nothing else to do.’

Benton endeavored to school his features into obedience, but his internal protest must have been evident.

‘Constable, a guard was shot and killed during the robbery. These people will be desperate. We need to handle this carefully.’

One of Benton’s colleagues added, ‘It’s a hell of a risk, Fraser, going out there in weather like this. And would we take that risk if they were model citizens? I doubt it. So, why would we bother for them?’

‘Because they’re human beings,’ Benton said tightly. He faced Sergeant Wright and stood to attention. ‘I’ll go, sir.’

♦

He hadn’t expected her to be beautiful.

It was a wonder he even reached her, actually. Benton had been forced to abandon the RCMP four-wheel-drive vehicle early on the second day when the driving conditions deteriorated; and he’d set out on foot. Then early on the third day he’d fallen down a ravine in the foothills of the St Jude range – a ravine that had been treacherously hidden by a snowdrift – and while scrambling out he’d lost his backpack. Rather than spend precious time climbing down again and searching for it, he’d decided to keep going, though the only thing he had left other than his clothes was his rifle. The people he was tracking would no doubt appreciate his help as soon as possible, and their plane must have carried survival supplies.

Benton located the plane two hours later – which was just as well because the storm appeared set to close in again, and he thought the wreckage must soon be covered in snow. Unfortunately, however, the plane was burned out, and he could only hope that any supplies it carried hadn’t been destroyed.

Looking around him at the hills he’d just climbed, and the majestic mountains above, Benton wondered where any survivors might be sheltering. The most sensible place would be up closer to the pass – Fortitude Pass, if his geography wasn’t too far askew – where a living creature could let the peak bear the brunt of the weather on his or her behalf. And, indeed, once Benton had worked his way further up the slope, that’s where he found her; huddling with her legs drawn up and her arms wrapped around her torso.

She was beautiful.

He stood before her, he stood there alone before her; and his hands were empty, his whole world was empty; he was no one, really, in his civilian clothes and having lost everything; he towered there, tall and large and blundering, his footing uncertain. She gazed up at him, and she was beautiful even though she was near death, her dark eyes large in her gaunt face. He was reminded of Snow White, with her hair of ebony and her skin pale as snow – though of course her lips were too cold to be red as blood. He wondered how she’d look when not frozen, and he surmised she’d be devastating.

Suddenly, for no apparent reason, she smiled directly at him. A broad smile, a life-warming smile. It stirred him.

‘Ma’am,’ he greeted her politely, breaking out of that empty moment, reaching once more for his name. ‘Constable Benton Fraser, RCMP. I’m here to help you.’

The smile faded into a frown. Eyes darting glances left and right beyond him, the young woman now seeming more conscious and aware than she had been. ‘Are you here to rescue me,’ she asked, ‘or arrest me?’

‘Both.’

She nodded, not looking up at him anymore, apparently resigned to her fate. ‘Get me out of here, Constable, take me some place warm.’

He tilted his head, considering her. ‘Well, we have a problem – I believe the storm will soon close in around us. We won’t be able to travel, so I suggest we remain here for the duration.’

‘You’re kidding,’ she said flatly.

‘No, ma’am.’

She looked up at him. ‘You have food, a tent…?’

‘I’m afraid not.’

Those eyes of hers were very dark, very knowing; and her expression was clever and challenging and cynical all at once. ‘You were really intending to _rescue_ me?’

‘Yes, ma’am.’ He gestured around them. ‘You’ve already found the best shelter available, and I’m not completely lacking in resources. Our surroundings and our situation may appear bleak, but I’m sure we’ll be fine.’

‘ _I doubt it not_ ,’ she sarcastically replied, ‘ _and all these woes shall serve for sweet discourses in our times to come_.’

Benton almost laughed in surprise and delight; instead he let himself give her his true smile, the one that reached high enough to shine through his eyes. This beautiful woman was quoting _Romeo and Juliet_ at him…

She tried in vain to quell her own instinctive smile, and then she skipped back a few scenes. ‘ _Dost thou not laugh?_ ’

‘ _No, coz_ ,’ Benton responded with Benvolio’s line, ‘ _I rather weep_.’

‘ _Good heart, at what?_ ’

‘ _At thy good heart’s oppression_.’ He dropped his gaze, breaking the moment. ‘Ma’am, I need to ask where your companions are.’

She huddled further into her own embrace. ‘The pilot went that way,’ and she lifted her chin in a dismissive gesture, indicating somewhere south. ‘I tried to follow, but he deliberately left me behind…’ Swallowing hard, she maintained a hold on her anger.

‘Was he one of your colleagues?’

‘No, we hired him; he didn’t know why until we were ready to take off.’

‘Were there any survival rations on the plane?’

She looked directly at him. ‘I already ate what he left me.’

Fraser nodded. ‘Ma’am, where are your partners?’

Anger again, and something distraught clouding her face. ‘Jolly had his own plans for leaving Fort Jesse; I don’t know where he is. Ed… Ed should have been on the plane with me, but he barely made it to the airfield…’

‘I’m sorry, ma’am,’ he offered. ‘The reports we received didn’t mention any injuries sustained.’

‘I’m sorry, too.’ Defiance now, mixed in with her despair: this woman was bewitching as well as beautiful, brimming over with bounteous emotion. ‘One of the guards shot him, he died later. Much later.’

He nodded his understanding. It wouldn’t have been an easy death, either to suffer or to witness.

Well, there seemed little point in endeavoring to track the pilot; he had set out alone, and it seemed he must continue to make his own way. Benton would have enough to deal with, keeping this woman and himself alive.

Heavy clouds were massing behind the mountain’s peak; it was time to improvise better shelter for them both. Benton unstrapped his rifle, and found a crevice in the rocks nearby, just the right size to wedge the butt of it in so that it stood firm. He took his leather coat off, and draped it around the rifle, forming a makeshift lean-to. That left him in his woolen sweater, flannel shirt, jeans, long-johns and boots: it was enough. Satisfied with his efforts so far, he went to her.

Her eyes had closed, and Benton had to touch her cheek to gain her attention: her bare flesh was so cold against his fingertips he almost moaned in pity and sorrow. It was a wonder she’d lasted this long.

She could barely move, so Benton gathered her up in his arms, carried her over to the lean-to and then settled them both within it; holding her bundled-up body on his lap, wrapping his arms around her, enveloping her with all of himself, willing his own warmth to pass into her… The storm closed in around them, blanketing them in darkness and turmoil. He tucked his head in beside hers, burying his face against her throat, so that all he could hear was the sound of her weak heartbeat.

‘Talk to me, ma’am.’ Silence. ‘Ma’am, talk to me. It’s important to remain awake.’ In fact, if either of them slipped into sleep or unconsciousness, they would probably never wake again.

He could feel her sigh, and then she whispered, ‘Why do you call me that?’

‘Because I don’t know your name.’

A moment, and then she said, ‘Victoria.’

The regality and the beauty of it suited her. ‘Thank you, ma’am.’ Fastening on this as a topic, he forced himself to keep speaking. ‘Your name is quite the good omen. It is based on the Latin word for victory, though its current form came to us through the German language.’

‘Really. And what should I call you, Constable?’

‘Most people call me Fraser.’

‘All right. Fraser.’

However, he was all too aware that the number of people in the world who used his given name was diminishing fast. He offered, ‘Under the circumstances, ma’am, perhaps you should call me Benton.’

‘Benton?’

‘Well, my family often called me Ben.’ And it didn’t seem too presumptuous: she was the most beautiful creature he had ever laid eyes on; she quoted romantic tragedies; he had already witnessed her intelligence and her emotion, her despair and her will to live; furthermore, he was currently enfolded around her slim body, and he fully intended that they would save each other’s life.

‘Ben.’

‘Talk to me, Victoria.’ Silence again. ‘Tell me about Ed.’

That worked: a shudder ran through her frame. ‘He was… He and I were…’

‘He was your boyfriend?’ he offered.

‘Yes. Well, it’s not that I…’ A pause fraught with difficulty, and then she lapsed into silence again.

‘Tell me,’ Benton softly prompted.

‘Ed had his moments, there was something about him – there was something about him I loved. But more often than not he treated me badly. He became… careless. Especially after he got mixed up with Jolly.’

‘I’m sorry.’

‘So was I, believe me. Jolly insisted I should be the getaway driver for the bank job. I didn’t want to. I think Jolly wanted a hostage available in case Ed double-crossed him.’

‘They forced you to commit this crime…?’

Silence again, though it was thoughtful this time. ‘No,’ Victoria said at last, speaking slowly. ‘I’m no innocent, Ben; I won’t make excuses for what I did. It’s just that I thought this particular job was too risky – and it was. I’m no innocent, and Ed was… someone I deserved.’

‘No,’ he protested; ‘no one deserves cruelty.’

She pressed herself up against him then, as well as she was able, as if grateful for his reassurance; she said, ‘Ben. Tell me about you,’ and it was obvious from her tone that she was interested.

♦

Benton was hungry, cold and empty and hungry, and the only thing he had in the whole world was the beautiful young woman curled up in his arms. The day passed, and the night was dark and awful around them, and dawn seemed an impossible dream. Light-headed, Benton clung to consciousness though he knew by now it was hopeless; he would freeze here, sitting cross-legged in the snow, embracing Victoria.

Dawn arrived at last, but even though the cold eased it was still beyond what any human might bear. Benton was supposed to be talking, and sounds were indeed coming out of his mouth, and he wondered at their meaning.

‘Ssshhh,’ she whispered at some stage, and it was the most tempting notion he’d ever contemplated, to simply give in, let go, drift away, fall free… But she was talking now, the cadence of her voice indicating she was reciting a poem, though the exact details were indistinct. ‘ _I caught this morning morning’s minion_ …’

Her words became the only thing he could fasten hope to: if he listened carefully enough perhaps he could discern her words’ meaning. His grandmother would be ashamed of him being unable to identify the poet and the poem. He’d better try harder.

‘… _and striding high there, how he rung upon the rein of a wimpling wing in his ecstasy!_ ’

This most beautiful of voices reminded Benton of his mother telling him a gentle-toned story at bedtime, as his eyelids grew heavier and heavier. A dangerous memory to echo now, when he must stay awake. To distract himself further, Benton took Victoria’s narrow fingers, and he put them in his mouth to keep them warm.

‘… _and blue-bleak embers, ah my dear, fall, gall themselves, and gash gold-vermilion_.’

The bold, violent, awe-filled imagery puzzled him, stirred him, forced the blood to flow no-matter-how-sluggishly through his veins.

‘ _I caught this morning morning’s minion_ …’

Was this the nine-hundredth time she’d recited the poem? Or the nine-hundred-first?

‘Ben…’

Fear in that beautiful voice now; Benton listened to it, the warm nugget of his appreciation buried deep within him.

‘Damn you! Ben, wake up!’

The fear now turned to fury. That fine anger of hers – rarely far below the surface – was boiling over. Benton would have smiled if he could.

‘Ben!’

Eventually he found the wherewithal to open his eyes, one at a time; the effort was rewarded by her patent relief.

‘Ben, look!’ She’d parted the coat enough for them to see a scrap of sky – clear sky! The storm had passed, and the stars were newly out; Benton managed to shift his frozen ungainly arms around her. ‘No, look up there…’

The aurora borealis spun its magic above the northern horizon, greens and blues misting and sweeping against soft blackness, the stars a bright precious scatter throughout. Benton and Victoria were alive.

‘I’ve never seen it so beautiful,’ she whispered.

He was an insignificant speck under the might of the cosmos, he was hollow and adrift and empty. He said, ‘I’ve… I’ve lost everything.’

‘But you’ve found me,’ Victoria said, supremely satisfied. She turned from the universe’s cold distant display to gaze at him instead.

‘Yes,’ he acknowledged at last. ‘I’ve found you.’

And when Victoria slowly closed the few centimeters’ distance between them, Benton didn’t draw away. They kissed: a token kiss only, perhaps, with their frozen lips clumsy and hurting; it was a kiss, nevertheless, stirring Benton’s very soul.

She broke away, and he announced, ‘Tomorrow, we’ll try to find my pack.’

‘You have food?’ she asked.

‘Yes. And other supplies, a tent…’

‘We’re going to live, aren’t we, Ben?’ Her dark eyes glowing, her tenacity rekindling his own will. ‘We’re going to survive.’

‘Yes, we are.’

‘Do you know,’ she began, ‘I’d almost given up faith. But here you are, a genuine knight in shining armor. It’s a pity that someone like you could never love someone like me.’

Something inside of him cracked asunder at this bleak certainty.

‘But that’s all right,’ she continued – this brave, smart, tough, beautiful woman. ‘I’ll find another Ed, and make do with him.’

‘You deserve better,’ he said, his voice gruff with the cold. The thing inside him broke further, and then fell apart.

‘Do I? No – _I am a lone lorn creetur_ … _and everythink goes contrairy with me_.’ A Dickens quote, in a mock Cockney accent.

Fraser held his breath, full of wonder. He felt he _knew_ this woman, and she _knew_ him; she fit the lonely ache in him, and made him whole. ‘Victoria,’ he said roughly. And when she looked at him, he kissed her once more; enveloping all of her with all of himself, the two of them becoming one. The yearning in him was answered, and flourished a thousand-fold, and was answered again.

Seeing something of the truth on his face, she seemed torn between denying him and imploring… She asserted, ‘It isn’t possible.’

‘Isn’t the best kind of love,’ he countered, ‘completely unconditional?’ Her gaze ate him up; she was as hungry for him as he was for her. ‘I know you, Victoria, I know who you are.’

Another kiss, and the passion seemed to thaw their skin so that it became a more sensual thing.

‘Ben,’ she whispered fiercely, ‘I’d show you my love if I could. I’d give you my love, I’d make love with you.’

And he knew that such a union was permissible; it would even be blessed, because _she_ was the one he’d been waiting for. It felt so perfectly right, as if their meeting meshed with the pattern of things beyond his ken… Oh, Benton had never before been so strongly inclined to lose his virginity; to shed his purity and his isolation, to join with another human being, to _know_ her in all senses of the word. He was smiling, delighted. Yes, it was cold but he was… yes, he was capable. Benton let out a chuckle, caught between the sublime and the earthly. He had always had a strong sense of the practical to balance his equally strong sense of the ideal. However, even as his mind presented various more-or-less feasible options to him, he said, ‘We can’t, Victoria; we can’t afford to expend that many calories.’

‘Calories?’ she repeated blankly.

‘We’ve survived this long, but we’ll need all our energy if we’re to reach the nearest outpost.’

A moment passed. She might have been disappointed, or angry with him, or frustrated, or any one of a hundred emotions; finally she settled on fondness and acceptance. ‘We’ll save our energy,’ she said, making it a promise full of happy innuendo.

♦

Benton didn’t find his backpack until late the next day. Victoria had been patient and tireless, following him through the snow and the cold under the achingly clear skies, enduring without complaint. He was grateful for her maintaining her humor – and impressed by her, too.

They ate ravenously, at once consuming everything that he’d carried; all the while laughing as if they were on a picnic… It was delightful, and they both felt restored by the nourishment.

That night, they had a tent for shelter and a sleeping bag to curl up in. ‘Are we going to make love?’ she asked, her beautiful voice husky.

He shook his head in the negative, even as his lips were curling into a true smile. ‘We can’t, Victoria,’ he said once more. ‘It still might take a day or two to reach an outpost, and there’s no more food.’

‘I never knew knights in shining armor were so practical,’ she commented.

‘If I made love with you now,’ he responded, ‘much as I would like to, it would not be the act of celebration and connection that it should be. It would be an act of utter despair.’

‘Despair?’ She frowned at him. ‘Why do you say that?’

‘Because it would mean I had given up all hope of us surviving. I would be burning up the last of our calories as a vain gesture of defiance.’

‘What a way to go…’ she murmured. A grin enlivened her face, though the expression was tinged with regret. ‘You know, I really can’t argue with that. I _want_ to survive, Ben.’

He drew her even closer, and kissed her poor chapped lips. They slept the night through; fully-clothed, but as deep in each other’s arms as if they were two-made-one.

♦

Four more days they were out there in the wild, four days wandering witless. It seemed that every decision Benton made, every direction he took, was the wrong one. They blundered around. The compass confused him. The only thing Benton had any success at was hunting and trapping just enough food to survive on.

There had been no point in trying to reach Benton’s abandoned four-wheel-drive – he wouldn’t have been able to start it, and the roads probably remained impassable. They tried to reach the town of Deliverance, but couldn’t negotiate the terrain on foot. They seemed to make no progress towards other outposts.

For all they knew, Benton and Victoria could have been the only two people left alive in the whole world. They talked. They spent their days and nights communicating, so that Benton thought it couldn’t be possible to know another human being more thoroughly than this; he had seen her in life-threatened extremity, in blessed joy, in searing anger, in every mood. There was an understanding, a rapport between them that seemed as natural and as spiritual, as real and as magical as the aurora borealis.

But on the fourth day Benton faced the truth: he was postponing the inevitable. Within an hour, as dusk began falling, he saw a church steeple on the horizon. They had reached Deliverance.

♦

Without commenting on the matter, Benton and Victoria set up the tent. It seemed they both wanted this last night alone together before they walked into Deliverance. One last chance for… well, for many things. They were hungry and cold and exhausted, but the town’s frugal comforts could wait. Delaying the end of their journey for one more night wasn’t _quite_ the least sensible thing Benton had ever done.

Still wordless, Benton sat cross-legged, and drew her into his arms, embracing her in the same way he’d held her during the day and the night and the day they’d endured under Fortitude Pass. And they sat there in silence, two-made-one, for a long while.

Eventually Victoria said, ‘Ben, I want you to let me go.’

He felt very still inside. Very still. But not as empty as he had been. He wasn’t shocked: he had, unconsciously at least, been expecting this moment. This awful moment. He said, ‘I can’t do that.’

‘No one need ever know,’ she promised. ‘No one knows who I am, no one knows that you found me. There’ll never be any embarrassing questions because no one else is ever going to arrest me.’

‘I can’t let you go, Victoria,’ he steadily repeated.

‘Why not?’ she cried out.

‘Because I’m a Mountie.’ And maybe that was the only answer Benton would ever need.

Those dark clever eyes of hers considered him. ‘What if I just get up and walk out of the tent right now…?’

‘I can’t let you go.’ And, indeed, his arms were strong around her, holding her slim body close to his for what he knew would be the last time.

‘What would you do if I just walked away?’

‘I’d go with you.’

Hope sparked within her.

He quickly quelled it. ‘I’d follow you, and I’d tell them who you are, and I’d arrest you. It’s the law, Victoria.’

She was staring at him now, hard. Disbelieving and despairing all at once. ‘Ben,’ she said, ‘I love you. And you love me.’

It was true. His eyes drifted closed in brief surrender. And then opened again.

‘How can you do this to me?’ she demanded.

‘You broke the law, two men were killed, property was stolen…’

‘ _I_ didn’t kill anyone!’

They looked at each other then, and Benton saw the moment’s hard speculation in her dark eyes. If she killed Benton now, she could just walk away…

‘Oh, Victoria,’ he said, mourning for her, for him, for the world. ‘I love you,’ he declared, simply for the sake of saying it, not with any thought of pleading for his life. She wasn’t that desperate. Not yet.

‘Then why won’t you let me go?’

‘Because I wouldn’t be the person you love if I didn’t arrest you. I’d be someone else; someone who’d broken a solemn oath.’

‘And you choose that oath over me?’

‘Would you want me if I didn’t? How could you ever trust the word of an oath-breaker?’

She returned his gaze intently. ‘I would trust your _heart_ , Ben.’

It was hopeless. They talked throughout the night: Victoria pleading and arguing and begging and demanding; Benton barely able to withstand the emotional onslaught, but remaining firm nevertheless. And even though it seemed clear what he must do, she made it a difficult resolution for him to keep to. To characterize her as disappointed was putting the matter mildly: Victoria was a romantic who had expected his love for her to be his only guide. And, oh, he _did_ love her.

Not once did she make excuses for what she had done: he admired that. But neither did she repent of her crimes. Benton explained, ‘I want you to pay your debt to society.’

Uninterested, she grimaced and said, ‘I don’t owe society anything. What has society ever given me?’

‘Pay your debt for _me_ , then,’ he pleaded; ‘and afterwards you’ll be free and I’ll be waiting for you.’

‘Let me go, for me,’ she countered; ‘and I’ll be free – and you, Ben, you could be with me now and for all the years to come.’

And it was tempting to do as she wished, he had to admit that.

‘Do you really want me to suffer through prison? Do you know what it’s like? How can you send someone you love to a place like that? For _years_ , Ben. They’ll put me away for a long long time – they’ll shut me away for the years that could be the best of my life, if I had you.’

And he knew that prison tended to confirm people in a life of crime, rather than rehabilitate them. ‘It’s not easy,’ he said, the words choking him, ‘doing your duty.’ The justice system wasn’t perfect. ‘Don’t think this is easy for me.’ But this was what his father would have done.

‘Let me go, Ben. Let me go, and you’ll never see me again.’

Pain clenched his heart.

‘No? Then let me go, and come with me, Ben. Be with me. I love you…’

‘The road to hell,’ he said, quoting his grandmother, ‘is paved with easy choices.’ The difficult decision was the right one; the easy choice would always be wrong.

‘Make love with me, Ben. Let me show you my love.’

‘No,’ he said. It seemed she figured that was the best – or worst – temptation she could offer. Paradoxically it had the opposite effect to what she intended. ‘No, Victoria,’ he said gently, not needing to defend himself against her any longer. ‘If we made love now, it would be the darkest of acts.’

‘It would be a proper farewell,’ she murmured; ‘a way for us to remember each other.’

‘But I won’t be forgetting you,’ he promised.

She stared at him, those dark eyes of hers luminous; though, if there were tears, none fell.

♦

Dawn. They walked towards town. Victoria was angry at him, a righteous lava-hot anger. Angry at him, at herself, at Ed and Jolly, at the world, at the storm, at the pilot… Angry because she was defeated, and there was nothing she could do about it. Benton followed her, aching with sorrow for her.

♦

For one ghastly heart-shattering moment – when he’d handed her over to the RCMP officer at Deliverance, and it was all too late, too late – Benton knew he’d made the wrong decision. He should have let her go.

If a person could save the world by saving one fellow human being at a time, then why shouldn’t he have started with Victoria? He looked at her, and she glared back at him, as bitterly regretful in that moment as he was. Benton knew that he should have let her go; and Victoria knew that she should have killed him and walked away.

But the intensity of it faded, he put his brief doubts behind him, and even she seemed to change her mind. They exchanged a last turbulent glance, and then the other police officer led Victoria Metcalfe away.

♦

As far as Benton Fraser could tell, no one at work had taken much heed of his absence. He walked in, wearing his standard issue uniform, and feeling thoroughly dull, deadened, defeated. His colleagues barely acknowledged him.

Dad, he silently asked the photo behind his desk; is it wise for a Mountie to be this numb? Can one do one’s duty in this awful state?

Well, nothing had changed, really. He’d had an adventure of sorts, but now he’d returned to his normal life.

Nothing had changed. Fraser was as lonely as he’d ever been. And he warned himself: loneliness could drive a man to do strange things.

♦

## PART TWO: 1994

Another grave, and another coffin. Fraser stood there considering the casket, quietly contemplating the relationship he’d had with his father. Regret weighed him down…

Sergeant Robert Fraser had been a provider, a maker of rules, a role model, an icon, the perfect Mountie; he’d rarely if ever simply been a Dad. There’d been a distance between father and son, a remoteness that Benton always assumed would finally be bridged one day. Well, such a day was impossible now. Such a future had been taken from them by a murderer’s bullet. Understanding came too late: the bridge could have been built at any time over the years, with little more cost than the effort of raw willingness.

Benton Fraser was alone, truly alone. Of course, the hard truth was that he’d been alone and empty ever since the terrible year in which his grandparents both died, but at least while Robert Fraser was alive there’d been someone left in the world who belonged to Benton; at least while he was alive there’d been hope. Minimal as it was, Benton valued his relationship with his father more than anything.

Even though it had provided little more than hope and isolation. Ten years of occasional stilted conversations over the phone, and neither man ever quite facing the other’s direct gaze the few times they met… Ten years in which Benton worked hard to develop his skills, to be worthy of the RCMP uniform, to earn his father’s respect.

None of his achievements helped this loneliness. Of course, Robert’s life-long friends were here attending the funeral and wake; but while Buck Frobisher and Gerard were among the handful of people left who used Benton’s given name, their gruff comfort and reticent grief didn’t warm him.

Did he expect too much of the world? Benton pondered this as he gazed six feet down into the icy earth. Was he being unreasonable or selfish? Was his yearning for companionship a flaw in his character? Such questions were rarely even formed, let alone indulged. During the past ten years, Benton had been… satisfied. His vocation was a worthy one, and he took pride in fulfilling his responsibilities well; any difficulties he faced and overcame only proved he was following the right path. Even though duty sometimes felt… hollow. It wasn’t often he wished for more in his life. Not often at all.

With his uncanny sense of timing, Diefenbaker trotted up to Fraser, and settled obediently at his side. There: Benton wasn’t entirely alone in the world; he had found the most loyal of companions in this wolf. He really should count his blessings.

Although Diefenbaker seemed content to wait, Fraser quickly grew impatient with himself. What purpose did this serve, standing there staring at a coffin, asking impossible questions of someone who wouldn’t answer even if he were capable? Such self-pity did not serve him, or grace the uniform. Fraser straightened himself, and offered his father a last respectful nod, before turning away. ‘Diefenbaker! Come on.’ The other members of the party were expecting Fraser in the bar; he would take the opportunity to gain permission to seek justice for his father’s killer.

♦

Chicago, Illinois and – thank God – Detective Ray Vecchio. Just as Fraser was cut permanently adrift in the world by the death of his father, Ray surged into his life with all the subtlety of a carnival. Loud, contradictory, insecure, chaotic, wonderful Ray.

They met as soon as Fraser arrived in Chicago, because Ray was the officer assigned to investigate the murder of Sergeant Robert Fraser. Their mutual misunderstanding and Ray’s initial antagonism quickly gave way to a profitable partnership. Ray’s appalling insensitivity in referring to the case as _the dead Mountie thing_ soon proved to be the exception rather than the rule in his behavior. Not only did the Detective put himself out time and again to progress the case, but Ray invited Fraser home for a Vecchio family dinner. Later that night, Ray ran into danger himself in order to push Fraser out of a window to safety; days after that, Ray left his hospital bed to follow Fraser back up to the Territories, simply because the cop wanted to help solve the case – all the while complaining that getting his name in the _Yukon Gazette_ wasn’t going to do bupkis for his career…

For all his flamboyant carelessness, Ray was a professional police officer. He might have convinced everyone including himself that the opposite was true, but Ray was a natural detective, with fine instincts which complemented Fraser’s logic and analysis. They shared a detective’s core qualities: Ray was smart, curious, creative, observant, persistent, self-sacrificing.

He’d recount a situation in his idiolect – which was as full of colorful imagery as his shirts – pausing every now and then with a ‘This makes me curious’. Or he’d refer to hat lines, fire hydrants and moose calls all within the space of a breath. Diefenbaker befriended the man immediately.

Fraser suspected that the noise, and the complaints, and the shady act, were all a deliberate attempt on Ray’s part to obscure his fundamentally good nature. Deliberate, though often unconscious. At times Ray could be bizarrely unaware: declaring there was no reason to be nice to people, and there was no reason to pay attention to details such as a person’s name; while simultaneously complaining about the poor service he was receiving from someone whom Ray had at best ignored and at worst insulted…

The next thing Fraser knew, Ray would be wrestling with an old lady for possession of an item of evidence, crying out, ‘Give me the bag!’ when a polite request was all that was required. Well, yes, all right: a polite request and fifty dollars.

While Ray was a torrent of surprises, Fraser nevertheless felt as if he knew this man. Perhaps in some ways Fraser even identified with this fellow human being who otherwise seemed to be his opposite. They were both unappreciated as law enforcement officers. And, Fraser thought, they were both lonely. A casual observer mightn’t necessarily see that Ray was lonely amidst his multitude of family, friends, acquaintances, colleagues, contacts, and those in-between – but he was.

And when Fraser was in a state of shock after being shot in the hat, Ray’s sarcasm and bluster were forgotten; instead he was all reassurance. ‘We can do that, Fraser.’ Under the traumatic circumstances, Fraser was only able to truly appreciate this later – but Ray proved once more he was the most compassionate of men.

Afterwards, despite Ray insisting that he didn’t trust Fraser, Fraser told Ray that he was his best friend. Ray had grinned, patently happy. ‘I am?’ he asked in surprise. And then the man frowned, all his insecurities resurfacing. ‘Hey, exactly how many best friends have you had?’

Well, Fraser hadn’t had a best friend since he was thirteen – twenty years ago now – but he wasn’t about to tell Ray that tale yet.

Benton Fraser would never have picked Ray Vecchio out of a line-up as a potential best friend, but the fact remained that was what Ray had become. During this exile from Canada, Ray was the most valuable thing in Fraser’s life.

♦

He hadn’t seen Victoria Metcalfe since the conclusion of her trial in Alaska, and he hadn’t even thought about her in years. In fact, it was so long since Fraser had developed the discipline of suppressing any memory of her, that the habit had become a completely unconscious one. An old guilt, a long-ago regret, a rusty untoward yearning buried deep. Well, Ray managed to change all that.

Ray Vecchio fell in love with a mysterious and beautiful woman – Ray’s word for her was _exquisite_. Fraser had only left him alone for a few minutes, while chasing after a gun-runner named Frank Bodine. In that time Ray had been hit by a car and rescued by the car’s driver; and he’d fallen in love with her, too, while concussed.

Lieutenant Welsh gave his permission for Ray to stake out Bodine’s apartment, with Fraser’s company of course; they shared the task with Detectives Jack Huey and Louis Gardino. Late one night Louis and Huey had stayed on rather than go home after their shift, and the four of them ended up playing a game of poker and talking about the nature of love.

‘It’s all about signs,’ Ray declared as he discarded three cards.

Louis asked, ‘What do you mean, signs?’

‘Women give you signs, to let you know that they’re the right woman for you.’

‘She hit you with her car,’ Louis pointed out; and indeed Ray was sporting a bruise on his forehead as a result. ‘You call that a sign?’

Fraser said, ‘You know, when the French fall in love, they say they’ve been hit by a coup de foudre.’ None of his companions understood the language, so he translated: ‘A bolt of lightning.’ He continued, ‘Love is a very disorienting emotion. As a matter of fact, they’ve done experiments to demonstrate that hamsters, when they’re mating, secrete a hormone that makes them behave irresponsibly.’

And then Fraser recalled the clap of thunder that had resounded through him below Fortitude Pass; he abruptly remembered the temptation and the turbulent hurt as if it were yesterday. It was troubling to realize that he hadn’t really put it all behind him…

The poker game faltered on. Some while later Huey announced, ‘I think there’s two-million women on this planet you could be happy with. You meet one, and you gotta ask yourself is this number one, number two-million, or number six-hundred-seventeen. It’s a crap-shoot. You could settle for number six-hundred-seventeen, and tomorrow meet number eleven.’

Poor Louis concluded that his ex-wives were numbers two-million-one, two-million-two and two-million-three.

Fraser found this topic very confusing. Ten years ago, he had indeed been hit by a coup de foudre – surely the very intensity of his love for Victoria, and hers for him, meant that she was in effect his number one. It had felt inevitable at the time… And yet he had been so young; he hardly knew what to make of the affair now. It had been so impossible for them to be together – did that mean she was really number two-million-one, even though the emotion between them was genuine? Perhaps the whole thing had been nothing more than a horrible mistake.

At one point Ray told him, ‘Fraser, nobody who’s prudent has any business being in love.’ And Fraser, used to considering himself as such, wondered if he was beginning to agree. When Fraser picked up the thread of the conversation again, a heartfelt Ray was asking, ‘What about love? What about that moment when you know that this is the woman you want to spend every waking hour with for the rest of your life? I’m telling you, you’ve got to have that moment in your life when you know that you will never ever be the same again.’

It seemed that Ray was someone whom Fraser could learn from in this regard. ‘When it happens,’ Fraser carefully asked, ‘how do you know?’

‘You just know,’ Ray said, with great authority. ‘You just know. And that’s what happened to me on Saturday night.’ He looked so satisfied, so… sure. So centered and energized. ‘I got the sign.’

Louis observed, ‘Now all you’ve got to do is find her.’

‘Hey, I’ll find her. I’ll find her.’ Ray got up, and went to stand by the window, gazing out into the night. ‘You only meet the woman of your dreams once in a lifetime. I’ll find her. You watch.’

Only once? Then the woman of his own dreams had to be Victoria, Fraser concluded. There had been no other woman in his thirty-three years who’d made him feel anything comparable. And yet it had been so impossible. She’d been his number two- _billion_ -one.

It had been a long while since anyone but Huey had paid any attention to the poker game, so Fraser was pleasantly surprised to find that he was winning.

♦

Fraser told Ray something of his and Victoria’s story, later when the two of them were alone again. He recounted the heart-breaking tale, hoping that Ray could advise him. Even as he spoke, prey to vivid recollections of the storm and the northern lights and holding her in his arms, Fraser decided it must have been love – he just knew. He knew in his heart. What else could it have been?

‘It ended… badly,’ Fraser said in conclusion. ‘She had a… she had a darkness inside her. And the most beautiful voice, the most beautiful voice you’ve ever heard.’

Finally, when he turned to his best friend, seeking comfort or acknowledgment or indeed any kind of reaction, Fraser found that Ray had fallen asleep and was safely oblivious.

♦

The following morning, Ray’s exquisite mystery woman showed up at Frank Bodine’s apartment, and they had to face the fact that she was the gun-runner’s partner in crime and possibly in romance. Ray was, understandably, somewhat morose about this.

Trying to reassure him, Fraser said, ‘Anyone can have a lapse in judgement, Ray.’

‘Ah, this is not a lapse, this is my life, Fraser… This one – this woman, I would have bet my soul on.’

She’d come to the apartment in order to successfully divert Ray and Fraser’s attention, so that Bodine could then briefly return. It had worked – the two police officers had slid into Ray’s Buick Riviera and followed her car for several blocks before they’d worked out the situation. ‘You slow down, she’ll slow down,’ Fraser observed. ‘She has no intention of losing you, Ray.’

‘You mean, she’s a decoy?’ Ray asked. ‘She tricked us?’ he added, sounding a little happier. ‘ _God_ , why do I love that?’

It appeared that Frank Bodine was using his contacts as a Guardsman to illicitly buy weapons. They tracked the man down to his National Guard headquarters, and got close enough to their quarry for Ray’s mystery woman to fire a shot at him…

Safely back at the police station, sitting in the lunch room, Ray said, ‘She had the perfect shot, Fraser; she almost killed me.’

‘No, she didn’t, Ray. She missed you by seventeen centimeters.’ And Fraser proceeded to explain that with such an accurate gun, and with such a good opportunity, she must have intended to miss. Ray took this as a very positive sign, and began speculating about the woman’s feelings… Fraser reminded him, ‘Ray, you’ve only known this woman for a few seconds, while you had a concussion.’

‘It doesn’t matter, Fraser. Ten seconds, ten years: chemistry is chemistry.’ The speculations proliferated. Then Ray asked, ‘How often in a lifetime does this type of thing happen? I mean, has it ever happened to you?’

Fraser was flummoxed. ‘Well, I…’ He wasn’t about to try re-telling the sad story about Victoria under these circumstances. ‘I…’

‘No, of course not,’ Ray said dismissively, turning away. ‘You’re a Mountie. What does a Mountie know about women?’

Oh. Fraser stared at the man, wanting to protest that was hardly fair. But he supposed Ray really didn’t know any better.

Heartfelt as ever, Ray declared, ‘I think I’m in love with her, Fraser.’

The two of them were gazing at each other now, both of them raw. And that was when the similarities between his former situation with Victoria, and Ray’s current one with this woman, belatedly slammed into Fraser… Ray Vecchio had just fallen in love with a felon.

♦

Fraser and Ray were soon back in the Riviera, tracking the woman and Bodine via the signal of their cellular phone; it appeared the couple were somewhere near Carpentersville, outside of Chicago. As the two police officers drove through the autumnal farmland, Ray declared, ‘I find her, I’ve got to arrest her, too, end of story.’

‘Well, yes,’ Fraser replied. The decision was clear; as clear as it had been when Fraser made it himself.

‘Yeah,’ Ray said. He sounded glum, which perhaps wasn’t unexpected. These matters were difficult.

They located the suspects in a farmhouse, and split up to deal with them. Unfortunately the woman got away from Ray, and Bodine eluded Fraser – the pair escaped in their army truck full of weapons.

Fraser went to find Ray, who was dragging himself up off the kitchen floor. ‘Are you all right?’ Fraser asked.

Having managed to get to his knees, Ray propped himself on the table, and felt gingerly at the back of his head. He announced, ‘She kissed me.’

‘ _After_ she hit you?’

A sour glance. ‘I’m going to see her in jail, Fraser, if it’s the last thing I do.’ The man was in pain, but he was not in the mood for comfort. As they headed for the Riv and then chased after Bodine and the woman, Ray expanded on his theme… ‘I want her, Fraser. I’m going to put this chick away for a long time; she’ll be ninety before they let her out. She won’t be able to do this to me anymore.’

And even while Fraser was checking the map for their likely route, and reminding Ray to call for back-up, he couldn’t help but reflect on Ray’s words. The choice was still clear, Ray must do his duty. And yet – Ray sounded so… vindictive. Ugly. He sounded cruel as he described what he would do, as he described what Fraser had done.

When it came to the crunch, the woman overturned the truck rather than hurt Ray who was sheltering behind the Riviera with Fraser – and then Ray offered to let her go rather than arrest her… And she turned out to be Special Agent Suzanne Chapin of the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms.

‘They’re going to ask for my shield, Fraser,’ Ray said. Understandably enough, he was dejected by the thought of having wrecked his career.

Fraser found himself saying, ‘There were mitigating circumstances, Ray.’

Ray remained bleak: the woman would report him, and Welsh would dismiss him from the police force. Nevertheless, Ray concluded, ‘I would have bet my soul on her.’

♦

Suzanne Chapin placed her faith in Ray, and commended him in her report rather than condemned him, praising his hard work and courage. Rather than frowning on the pair of them continuing to bend the law for each other, Fraser found himself assisting the budding romance by locating Ms. Chapin’s hotel, which enabled Ray to go visit her before she left town… Once Ray had dashed off, Fraser made his way home alone, puzzling over the situation.

It was a conundrum. Ray had made a different decision to Fraser. Ray had faith enough in Suzanne to risk everything and not arrest her, he chose love over duty – and he was vindicated. Suzanne turned out to be a good-hearted law-abiding person, deserving of Ray’s trust. And Fraser was left to wonder whether, if he’d placed his faith in Victoria, would he also have been vindicated…? Would Victoria Metcalfe have then proven herself worthy of his trust?

Perhaps not – there had been a darkness in Victoria, something soul-deep that might never have opened itself up to the light. Presumably Ray had sensed, in the intuitive way he had, that Suzanne wasn’t afflicted with darkness; surely Ray’s instincts had indicated Suzanne was trustworthy. He’d known. He’d just known.

Fraser had taken a photo of Victoria during those four days they’d spent wandering aimlessly: he always kept a camera in his pack to record crime scenes, which could not be preserved or even revisited in the wilds as they could be in the city. He hadn’t looked at the photo in years, but he fetched it out now from his box of mementoes, and contemplated the obscured long-ago image of her…

There was no one on earth who could not be redeemed: Fraser believed that whole-heartedly. Perhaps all Victoria had needed was his faith, and she would have risen to meet his heightened expectations. Choosing duty over love was beginning to seem a poor and mean-spirited decision.

Fraser’s ruminations were interrupted by a knock at the door. When he opened it, much to his surprise he found Ray standing there. The man was brimming over with contentment, and had never appeared more handsome… While Fraser put coffee on to brew, Ray began recounting how he’d kissed Suzanne, and how she’d left nevertheless, how she’d looked back at him while being driven away. ‘That’s it, Fraser: that’s the sign.’

‘What is, Ray?’

‘The look. She left me, but she left me for the right reason. She loves me.’

This was all terribly confusing: Ray was happy even though Suzanne had left him, while Fraser’s own heart was aching for his friend’s loss. ‘But… she’s gone.’

‘Well, that’s what’s right for us. Maybe some day it won’t be, but now it is.’

‘But you might never see each other again.’

‘Exactly! That’s what we need: ridiculous odds, and just a speck of hope that some day we’ll beat them.’

Fraser frowned. If he’d chosen love over duty, then he and Victoria would have cleaved together and never parted… ‘I can’t say I understand that, Ray.’

‘Well, of course you don’t. You’re not too swift with this stuff, are you, Fraser?’

Maybe he wasn’t, after all. He knew about being a Mountie; he had very little experience in being a lover. Fraser indulged a quiet sigh, poured the coffee, and handed one of the mugs over to Ray who accepted it with no fuss. Their friendship had settled into an easy give-and-take that Fraser was forever grateful for.

Fraser carried his own mug over to the windows, and contemplated the street below as he let the fragrant steam of the coffee waft up to his face. He really couldn’t understand why Ray had let Suzanne go. Ray-in-love was all vibrancy and certainty and passion: surely Suzanne would have found it difficult to leave him behind. And one of the things Fraser had in common with Ray was that neither of them were good at letting things or people go, not when they really mattered.

Speaking of which – there was something vital missing from the streetscape below. In a slight panic, Fraser said, ‘Ray. Where did you park the Riviera?’ Terrible, if it had been stolen in this admittedly risky neighborhood. Fraser would never be allowed to forget the matter.

‘Oh, I left the Riv at the hotel, and walked here,’ Ray replied, remarkably off-handedly.

He’d left his beloved Riviera behind unattended? Fraser turned to stare at the man as Ray came over to stand beside him. Perhaps this bizarre behavior could be attributed to being in love. Fraser suggested, ‘Why don’t I walk back with you, and we’ll retrieve it?’

Ray was silent, gazing down at the street just as Fraser had done. Eventually he asked, ‘It’s not so inconceivable that someone should fall in love with me, is it, Benny?’

And Fraser immediately felt awful for questioning Ray’s cheerfulness. ‘No, of course not. Only that you should then choose to be apart.’

‘Yeah,’ Ray muttered. ‘I get it.’ And he seemed sad now. Fraser’s heart began aching for him all over again.

♦

It wasn’t inconceivable that someone should love Ray, not at all. Fraser himself was half-in-love with Ray Vecchio, and had been for months. It was a constant source of pleasure and amusement, to feel this way for the man at his side, to feel this way for his best friend. Especially when, Suzanne Chapin aside, Fraser suspected Ray felt much the same way for him though the cop wasn’t conscious of it.

It had been so _easy_ , so _natural_ to fall for Ray that Fraser hadn’t even noticed until it was already done. Ray had been a revelation after a long hibernation, inevitably reawakening Fraser’s warmer emotions. It was all quite inadvertent on Fraser’s part – but, of course, its very simplicity made him hesitate. As his grandmother often said, the road to hell is paved with easy choices. Which made this fledgling romance completely inappropriate.

The problem for Fraser wasn’t that they were both men – though he suspected that would be the problem for Ray. Perhaps Ray’s obliviousness to the situation was because an Italian-American man, a Catholic, a Chicago police officer would not consider homosexuality to be a viable option. Maybe it never even occurred to Ray, even though his feelings had already been partially engaged. To Fraser, love was love, and he saw little purpose in differentiating between romantic partners on the basis of gender.

No, the problem for Fraser was that this felt easy. Dangerously, sinfully easy…

The two men were walking through the city streets, heading for the hotel where Ray had left his Riviera. And there was nothing but cold night air between them. It would be so easy for Fraser to bridge that gap, to slip his hand into Ray’s coat pocket and entwine their fingers. Whenever this man was at his side, Fraser felt light-hearted… That was so precious to him.

Maybe it was time to follow Ray’s example. He’d chosen his love for Suzanne over duty, and then let her go because that was right for them. Perhaps Fraser could acknowledge his love for Victoria, give it credence for the first time in years; and then set his memories of her free. It was time to put her behind him and concentrate on enjoying what he had here and now.

Fraser suspected he could persuade Ray of their mutual love: he’d persuaded him into many other risky endeavors. But – yes, it would be so delightfully, frighteningly easy to be loved by this man. Which meant… Well, Fraser wasn’t quite sure exactly what it meant. Only that there would be something not quite wholesome about a pleasure so simply gained, there would be something of true respect or commitment missing.

Recalling a quote from Thomas Paine strengthened him: _The harder the conflict, the more glorious the triumph. What we obtain too cheap, we esteem too lightly; it is dearness only that gives everything its value._

A moment’s hesitation, and the impulse to reach across that gap began fading. Instead Fraser counted the blessings of this friendship… And he was content.

♦

Fraser was worried – he was wondering if he’d been wrong to bring Diefenbaker to Chicago with him… The wolf had fallen for the easy lifestyle available here, developing city-habits such as a taste for junk food, running with destructive gangs of strays, and forever seeming out of sorts. There were no longer any confidences shared between the wolf and the human.

Unfortunately, a situation that started as distasteful and frustrating soon became dangerous. Willie Lambert, a neighborhood boy who was supposed to be minding Dief, set him free one morning to run the streets with his motley friends – and then Diefenbaker bit an Animal Control Officer while being taken into custody. Such violence wasn’t in the wolf’s usual character, at least not without Dief having good reason or severe provocation. Fraser could not understand the matter.

Having briefly visited Diefenbaker, who was now locked up in the quarantine area of the Animal Control Centre, Fraser and Ray returned to the foyer where Willie was waiting.

‘So, did you spring him?’ the boy asked.

‘No,’ Fraser adamantly said, ‘I can’t do that, Willie. Diefenbaker’s broken the law; we have to let justice take its course.’

‘You’ve got to be kidding me.’ When Fraser indicated he wasn’t, Willie gathered Fraser and Ray into a private conference. ‘The way I figure it, is that guy in there is really soft…’ Willie was referring to the older Animal Control Officer. ‘So let’s just slip him a few bucks.’

‘Good idea,’ said Ray.

Fraser stared at the police officer – his partner – and the young man standing beside him. ‘That would be bribery,’ he felt obliged to point out.

‘Right!’ the pair happily chorused.

‘Absolutely not.’ He had to be firm about such matters, especially if Ray had decided to exercise his flexibility. ‘The only way that we’re going to help Diefenbaker is to ensure that he receives a fair hearing.’

‘Oh, come on, Fraser,’ Ray pleaded, ‘he bit the guy. You saw him, I saw him; the wolf’s guilty.’

‘But what happened before we got there? There could be extenuating circumstances, witnesses to those circumstances – we won’t know this until we’ve completed our investigation.’

After a few more token protests, Ray agreed to bring his detecting skills to the case, and Fraser and Ray began canvassing the neighborhood. Unfortunately, they couldn’t find much evidence to offer the judge when the matter came to trial; but Fraser felt that Diefenbaker’s formerly sterling character and his exemplary law enforcement career would speak for themselves.

Apparently Judge Sherman felt differently… The hearing did not go well, despite Fraser’s best efforts. Summing up, the judge said, ‘What you have here is a wild animal living in an apartment; who, by your own admission, has bitten more than one individual, and is responsible for killing at least one other animal. This is not Lassie.’ A long moment stretched before Judge Sherman passed sentence. ‘I order that the animal be put to sleep.’

Ray and Willie were on their feet protesting. But Fraser just stood there, stunned. He had put his trust in following the law, and Diefenbaker was about to lose his life as a result. It didn’t seem right, and yet… it was justice. And there was no appeal.

In those first moments he felt betrayed. The law should have provided the right answer. And he also felt incredibly stupid. What had he done? Choosing duty over love yet again, doomed to repeat the same mistakes. When would he ever learn…?

For now, Fraser must put such doubts behind him. Instead he found a brave face, and went to visit Dief in the barrenness of the concrete quarantine room. Trying to make conversation, trying to reassure the wolf that Ray was doing his best to help them, while Dief remained unimpressed, Fraser soon faltered. After a moment he tried again: ‘You know I was thinking today about that time you pulled me from the Sound, and, er, I know I never really…’ Well, perhaps they had been through so much since then that a belated thank-you was redundant.

Fraser leaned forward, elbows on his knees. ‘You did _want_ to come here, didn’t you? I just took it for granted, I know we never really discussed it, but… I would hate to think that you came here and stayed here all of this time just out of some kind of misplaced sense of… duty. You wouldn’t do that, would you?’

Diefenbaker growled his don’t-be-silly, and settled down.

‘No, I didn’t think you would.’ A relieved Fraser offered to stay for the night – he’d brought his bed-roll especially – but Dief seemed uninterested. Apparently he’d rather be alone. However, when Fraser went to leave, the wolf began barking and jumping up against the far wall, frantic about something. ‘Diefenbaker. What’s wrong?’

There was no reply.

‘All right,’ said Fraser, ‘I’m leaving now.’ Then it happened. As Fraser opened the door, Diefenbaker ran at him, determined to force his way out. Fraser stood firm –

– and the wolf bit him. There was blood on his left wrist.

Fraser hadn’t felt so badly shaken for a long while. Because he realized he had no choice: there was a darkness, a wildness in Diefenbaker that Fraser was required to deliver to justice. Even if justice destroyed Dief, and broke Fraser’s heart.

He left the Animal Control Centre; in his dismay, barely acknowledging the Officer’s farewell. Safely back home, he cleaned and dressed the wound himself, and changed out of the bloodied grey sweater.

When Fraser finally arrived at the police station, he found that Ray was still on the phone, calling every judge he knew in Chicago. The man was kind and encouraging, knowing that Fraser’s closest companion was due to be put down in the morning. Fraser assumed Ray wouldn’t be so kind if he knew the wolf had bitten his own human guardian… Indeed, Fraser was beginning to feel that the encouragement was out of place: it seemed the judgement had been a fair one after all. The long sleeves of Fraser’s woolen sweater hid his bandaged wrist quite well.

Willie complicated matters by breaking into the Centre, and rescuing Dief. The two of them then ran away: apparently Willie’s idea was to release the wolf in the wilds of Canada. But it seemed that Diefenbaker had other plans.

Fraser collected his father’s rifle, having asked Ray to purchase cartridges. All compassion, Ray gently offered, ‘Why don’t you let me do this for you?’

‘No,’ Fraser firmly replied, though for a moment he’d had a tear in his eye. ‘He’s my wolf.’ And the two law enforcement officers set off after the rogue animal.

When they finally caught up with Diefenbaker, however, an explanation for the wolf’s behavior was finally forthcoming. Dief had formed an attachment to a husky named Maggie, and she was currently bearing his pups… ‘You know, you could have told me about this,’ Fraser said to Dief. ‘It’s not as though we’re complete strangers.’ And he confided, ‘I think she seems to be a very good choice.’

What Fraser had feared was darkness now dissolved in the light of knowledge – Dief was anxious over becoming a parent, protective of his chosen mate, discreet in his adventures with the opposite sex… Dief was in love. And love was a very disorienting emotion.

As much to his own surprise as everyone else’s, Ray managed to save the wolf from the demands of the law enforcement system. After calling every judge he thought might help, all to no avail, Ray eventually went to visit one named Powell. While Fraser had never been privileged to hear the whole story, it seemed Ray had driven the man quite mad for a while. In return for Ray’s sincere promise never to bother him again, Justice Powell issued a stay of execution pending a psychiatric evaluation. From there it was a trip to one of Ray’s innumerable cousins who specialized in the rather bizarre field of pet therapy, and Diefenbaker was a free wolf.

Fraser was left to reflect that justice had been served in the larger picture, if not exactly in the detail… But he had chosen loyalty and love over the strictness of duty for once, and he couldn’t feel that he’d been wrong. Well, not _entirely_ wrong, anyway.

♦

The women of Chicago – and many of the men – were voracious and persistent in their pursuit of Benton Fraser, who found the situation rather bemusing. Fraser decided early on that the most considerate and indeed the most efficient response was utter obliviousness at best and total confusion at worst. He wasn’t immune to their many charms, though, not at all.

When Mrs Tammy Markel grabbed his _derriere_ , his body responded… When a young man pressed his entire self up against Fraser every time their standing-room-only bus braked or cornered, his temperature rose… When Elaine Besbriss smiled at him, he almost gave her his true smile in return… When a hundred different receptionists and witnesses and shop attendants made deliberate display of their chests and cleavages, waists and biceps, thighs and ankles, he found them all delightfully provocative… When Maggie’s owner, Jackie Alexander, cooked dinner for him, he reveled in the domesticity… When Francesca Vecchio asked him for sex, he was tempted to let her bold approach overwhelm his good sense…

Fraser wasn’t quite sure why he didn’t fall in love with Francesca. It wasn’t simply that he was already half-in-love with her brother. She was as attractive, as clever, as direct, as colorful as Ray – but she wasn’t Ray. Sharing Francesca’s life would be exciting, certainly not peaceful. Challenging – but not difficult. Perhaps that was once more the problem: it would be so easy to let Francesca have her way. But he suspected that he wouldn’t do her justice as her husband. Too easy to simply love her, and to enjoy her, and to esteem her too lightly. For she deserved, as did he, the kind of soul-deep connection he’d only ever found with Victoria.

When it came to suitable temperaments perhaps Elaine would be a wiser choice – but, again, it would be too easy to love her. These women were worth more than that. Elaine and Francesca deserved the true commitment of a fiercely unconditional love that flourished against all the odds; not the mere gratification of emotional and physical desires, however warm and fond. His thinking wasn’t entirely clear on this point, perhaps due to a lack of experience, and Fraser knew that logic didn’t always assist in these matters. But there was an easy kind of love and a difficult kind of love; and, no matter how genuinely he felt for these women, he would only ever be able to offer them second-best.

It became obvious to Fraser that after all this time of not giving such matters another thought, he was looking. His heart was available. He was, as Ray might say, on the market. Victoria Metcalfe was… so long ago. She had been of great significance to his twenty-three-year-old self, of course, but ten years later it was time to discover whether there was someone else he could love. Someone he could love unconditionally despite every difficulty.

Fraser was grateful to Ray for unknowingly forcing Fraser to remember, to re-examine, and then to resume his life.

Ray himself, always at Fraser’s side, was… stirring. A commendable human being in every way. Delightful. Sexual.

Deadly. Ray Vecchio: the man who could deal with Frank Zuko, when even the Mountie had tried and failed. Logic and reason weren’t always the answers even in law enforcement, Fraser discovered. Ray’s strength and courage were forever admirable. Added to which, Fraser had seen, all too briefly as they’d chased Suzanne Chapin, that Ray-in-love was a beautiful phenomenon.

What a pity that it would be wrong for Fraser to try… Reaching for guidance, Fraser recalled two verses from Matthew that his grandmother had often quoted: _Enter by the narrow gate; for wide is the gate and broad is the way that leads to destruction, and there are many who go in by it. Because narrow is the gate and difficult is the way which leads to life, and there are few who find it._

The way which leads to life. _That_ was where Fraser would also find love.

Fraser did not agree with Jack Huey that there were two-million women or men out there with whom he could be happy. Or, if there were, it seemed that none of them happened to be in Chicago. None of them had been in Canada, either, with one notable exception. Perhaps he expected too much, but Fraser had to suspect there were far fewer candidates on his list of potential mates. Far fewer than two-million.

Right now, of course, he’d settle for meeting one.

♦

‘Ray,’ Fraser said late one night as they sat in his apartment, each nursing a mug of coffee.

‘Yeah?’

‘How did you know that Suzanne Chapin didn’t have a darkness in her?’

Ray scrunched his face up, and said, ‘What?’

‘How did you know she was a good person?’

‘I just knew.’ The man shrugged, and settled back into his exhausted slump. He just knew.

Fraser persisted. ‘But _how_ did you know?’

‘I had a hunch.’ After a moment Ray glanced at him, and realized that Fraser wanted more. ‘You want details? I don’t do details; I do hunches.’ Nevertheless, Ray grimaced and put some effort into remembering. Finally he said, ‘You know that time she hit me and knocked me out?’

‘Yes.’

‘She apologized first.’

‘Ah.’ Fraser nodded. That was indeed indicative of decency.

‘And, you know what? I wasn’t out completely cold – kind of like I was out ninety-nine percent. The thing is, I don’t think she just let me drop. I think she actually hung on, and made sure I got to the floor OK.’

‘Ah.’

‘That what you wanted?’

‘Yes, Ray.’ Fraser smiled at the man, and decided not to satisfy Ray’s curiosity over why he’d asked in the first place.

♦

Miss Katherine Burns had been impossible. In fact, she was so impossible that Fraser had given serious consideration to falling in love with her. There was no point in squandering unconditional love on anyone it would be _easy_ to love, after all.

Impossible. With her tendency not to listen to anything other than her own commentary, and her almost constant obliviousness to anyone other than herself. With her idiosyncratic and somewhat skewed worldview. With her jealous and violent fiancé – her ex-fiancé now – and his henchmen. With her contrary style of logic which Fraser found impossible to argue with. With her beauty which Fraser found thoroughly beguiling… He was frustrated with her, he was fascinated by her; Fraser was never once indifferent to her. And she professed herself in love with him.

Towards the end of the bizarre day they inadvertently spent together, Fraser and Katherine were riding in the back of a garbage truck that had been commandeered by persons unknown; she in her formerly-white wedding dress, and he in his dress reds. And it seemed Fraser had made an impression on her – she became quite annoyed with him, and demanded, ‘Were you always so good and honorable and perfect and…’

Fraser didn’t reply, having become distracted by a loose thread hanging from one of his uniform’s brass buttons.

‘Oh, just yank it off,’ was her impatient advice.

‘The button might fall off.’

‘It’s a button, take a risk!’

‘All right!’ he responded, a little affronted by her challenge. But his caution was vindicated when the button went flying off into the garbage. ‘Hah!’

‘Oh,’ she said, having the grace to look somewhat chagrined. And amused. ‘Don’t you ever do anything reckless or stupid or wild?’

‘No.’ He thought about it, started to say something, but then changed his mind. The honest answer was, ‘No.’

‘I guess that’s what first attracted me to Nigel. He was just so… dangerous.’

‘I can see how you’d find that exciting,’ he commented.

And after Katherine had told her story, Fraser repaid her trust by confiding in her. ‘I thought I was in love once.’ As he spoke, he recalled how he’d rationalized it away all those years ago. ‘And then later I thought maybe it was just an inner ear imbalance. We spent an evening snowed in on the side of a mountain, watching the northern lights. It was probably the most dramatic moment of my life. But in the end, I realized I’d learned two things. The first is that it’s easier to think you’re in love than it is to accept that you’re alone. And the second is that it’s very easy to confuse love with subatomic particles bursting in the air. Well,’ he added to make her smile, ‘I also learned I should have my ears checked more regularly.’

Katherine said, ‘It’s funny the things that attract you to somebody.’ She was looking at him very directly, and he didn’t look away. And she kissed him…

The snowstorm on Fortitude Pass receded even further. _This_ was more real, these warm willing lips were more real to him than the distant memories that had been briefly stirred up by Ray’s love for Suzanne.

Of course, it all came to nothing. The romance between Fraser and Katherine had been a whim, an adventure, a waltz. He’d been alone, and except for Ray Vecchio he was alone now; thinking of falling in love was not the solution.

But Fraser was on the right path again, at least. To be loved by Ray Vecchio would be sinfully blissfully easy; while to be loved by Katherine Burns would have been… a perverse trial.

In Fraser’s absence, Ray had put on Fraser’s spare dress uniform, and filled in as doorman for him at the Consulate. Ray was the truest friend a man could have, and Fraser was certainly still half-in-love with him. And the world was a wide place, full of opportunities…

♦

## PART THREE: VICTORIA

She began haunting him. Fraser saw her on the streets of Chicago. One moment he was walking along a busy city sidewalk with Ray at his side; the next there was Victoria Metcalfe amidst the crowd, with her unmistakable fall of long dark hair, her beautiful frown as she looked up at the dull sky… On another day he was with Dief in the park near his apartment; and he was caught by glimpses of her between the straggling trees as she wandered by. Each time he ran after her, but she escaped him. He would have sworn an oath that it was her. And it wasn’t impossible, for her jail term would have recently completed; though what a wonderful coincidence that she would come to the place where Fraser was, far from his home and far from hers.

Each time he saw her, his heart slammed into an alarming rate of beats per minute, and he wasn’t able to calm himself again for hours… Inner ear imbalance indeed, he scoffed at himself: this is love. ‘It wasn’t her,’ he would say to Dief, who seemed rather dismissive of the whole thing. ‘It wasn’t her.’ Trying to convince himself more than the wolf.

When he imagined her, when he imagined this apparition of Victoria turning back and facing him, she asked him, ‘Why?’ over and over again, her face a study in sadness and genuine confusion and grief. ‘Why?’ This was, of course, what he asked himself. Why on earth had he sent the woman he loved to jail for ten years? ‘Why?’ How heartless he must be to do such a cruel thing…

He went to Father Behan for guidance. The priest was taking confessions; and though Fraser had never been in a confessional before, it seemed an ideal place, indeed the only place for this conversation.

Fraser said, ‘I’m not really sure if I saw her, or I just wanted to see her. Maybe I saw her because she’s the one person I can’t face.’

‘Why?’ asked Behan.

‘Because of a decision I made.’

‘Came back to haunt you, so to speak.’

‘Yes.’

‘Son, I’m a Catholic from Belfast. And any good decision there is usually wrong. Each one’s impossible. But you still have to make them, and learn to live with it, and then try to forgive yourself.’

That was indeed the case: neither choice would have been a good one; arresting her, or letting her go. An impossible situation. But Fraser suspected that letting her go would have been a marginally better decision, for his own sake as well as hers. The guilt of turning her over to the authorities was too much to bear; so much so that he’d been repressing it within him all this time.

After he left Father Behan and St Michael’s, Fraser went to a diner, knowing that he should eat though he wasn’t hungry.

The ghost of his father was sitting opposite him in the booth… ‘You did the right thing,’ Robert Fraser advised. ‘You did your duty. That’s all you could have done.’

Benton disagreed. ‘She’s the only woman I ever loved; I put her in prison. Duty is a poor excuse.’

‘Well, she was a criminal, you had no choice but to bring her to justice.’

‘She really had no choice,’ Benton tried to explain, making excuses for her that she’d never made for herself. ‘She was living with the man who planned the robbery, it was a very desperate situation.’

His father remained implacable. ‘I’m sure the judge took that into account, that’s his job. Your job was to bring her in.’

And then finally there she was: not an apparition, not his imagination. Victoria Metcalfe literally bumped into Fraser as he was leaving the diner and she was coming in. ‘Hi,’ she said brightly, breathlessly.

‘Hi,’ he responded, feeling buffaloed.

She looked like a million dollars: her hair was long and shiny and curly; her make-up was flawless on her beautiful face; she was graced by a long dark fur coat; and when she smiled, Fraser’s heart once more slammed into too high a gear. ‘I never thought I’d see you again,’ she said, her smile fading as she contemplated the empty future she’d envisioned. Her eyes were eating him up, drinking him in, and he was sure his were doing the same to her…

‘Neither did I.’

Suddenly Fraser remembered how long it had been since he’d last eaten, and his appetite returned with a vengeance. He and Victoria agreed haltingly, eagerly, to share a meal – the first real meal they’d ever eaten together – and Fraser led her back into the diner.

As the minutes passed he became better able to pay attention to details. The dark grape chenille sweater, and the black she wore, suited her Snow White coloring. She was perfect, exquisite, even though he could trace the lines and blemishes of ten years’ hard labor: Victoria was no longer a fresh-faced twenty-three-year-old, and neither was he; Fraser thought maturity suited them both. She talked of heading for Dallas or Austin – some place warm – and he wanted nothing more or less than that she stay in Chicago. With him.

‘I’m glad I got a chance to see you,’ she said in farewell. ‘You look great.’

And then she was walking away from him, she was almost to the door. Fraser quickly turned towards her. ‘Victoria. Can I see you again?’

Softening, she asked, ‘When?’

‘Now.’

She walked all the way back to where he sat, and she faltered, ‘Isn’t there someone – Don’t you have someone now?’

‘There’s never been anyone but you,’ he replied, raw.

They went back to his place, she cooked for him that evening, and then they watched the television Fraser had borrowed from Mr. Mustafi. They’d lit a hundred, a thousand candles and scattered them throughout his poor apartment. Victoria’s face, her expression was open to him in ways that reminded him of Fortitude Pass. The few times he’d seen her at the jail or in court, the face she’d shown him had been closed, cold, brittle. Now she set every emotion free, her eyes were completely candid, and even her posture turned to him like a flower to the sun… In fact, the sheer mobility of her expression fleetingly reminded him of Ray, and that in itself made Fraser feel comfortable. Her anger, Victoria’s fine anger had been blunted over the years into resignation, acceptance; that was the most obvious change in her. Fraser found he mourned the loss.

‘This is my favorite movie,’ she said as they lay next together in front of the silent television. ‘I’ve always wanted to be Eve Kendall.’

‘But she sends Cary Grant to be killed.’

‘She had no choice,’ Victoria explained.

‘Oh.’

Afterwards he walked her back to her hotel, and she said, ‘I had a great time.’

‘So did I.’

He’d so wanted to kiss her, he’d been wanting to kiss her all evening, but it seemed horribly presumptuous. Surely the best thing he could do for her right now was to be her friend, to offer her his blessing as she began her new life without him. He had done the wrong thing by her last time; he was hesitant about doing _anything_ now.

Fraser reached home again, took his time blowing out all the candles, and settled to watch the end of the movie on his own, trying to quell the restless feeling of dissatisfaction, of abandonment, of loneliness.

There was a knock at the door. Another knock…

…and she was there. Upset. Almost crying. ‘Did you think we could just pretend that it didn’t happen?’

He closed his eyes, and bowed his head, having no answer.

‘How could you do it?’ The question he’d been dreading at last released her righteous fury. ‘How could you _do_ that to me?’ She strode in, she shoved him back against the wall.

Letting her anger wash through him, cast passive there, he knew that he was lost. He loved her. He pushed himself upright, he stepped towards her, he gathered her gently into his arms.

‘How could you do it?’ she demanded again, her fists beating ineffectually at his shoulders.

He encompassed her, loving her, not wanting either of them to be hurt any further.

‘No,’ she protested, trying to keep hold of her anger, struggling not to surrender.

‘I’m sorry,’ he whispered, _meaning_ it, hands at last caressing her through the fur coat and her bounteous hair.

And they kissed. They kissed, and the hunger was as passionate as her anger had been. Fraser swung the door shut, and the two of them spun clumsily towards his bed, kissing as if they would devour each other.

It was going to happen; Benton Fraser was about to lose his virginity and join with another human being. Join with his love. As they lay there on the narrow bunk, for the moment too involved in simply being together to bother shedding their clothes, Fraser thought to reassure her. ‘Victoria,’ he murmured as her mouth pressed hotly against his throat, ‘there’s been no one but you.’

She drew away a little to look at him, a smile hovering, a doubtful frown settling. ‘You’re asking me to be gentle with you?’

He smiled, too, and even blushed a little. ‘I’m telling you that I’m safe.’

‘Oh.’ A moment passed, as she tucked her head in against his shoulder again. ‘Well,’ she eventually said, ‘it’s been a long time since Ed…’

Which reminded him yet again that he’d destroyed ten years of her life. Both their lives. She was in a high risk group, having been a prisoner with all the associated problems of drug use and unprotected sex: but he trusted her sense of honor, at least in regard to him.

There were other reasons to use a condom, however. ‘Perhaps we should use some form of prevention in any case,’ he whispered against her hair.

‘Are you saying,’ she began in a wryly amused tone, ‘that you and I should never even consider bringing a spark of life into this world?’ And Victoria rose up onto her elbows, and gazed down at him. ‘Are we that hopeless?’

‘No,’ he said, his voice rough, charmed by her, no matter how ill-advised such a result might be.

She began stripping him naked, and he felt no embarrassment, no shame, no worry. He was nervous, yes, but he was so utterly certain. He lay there quietly; surrendering to her in _this_ moment and then in _this_ moment, too. It was easy, finally; no more regrets, no more confusion. At the very last moment before it happened, as a brief stillness settled over them, as he gazed up at her in serious wonder and she mirrored his awe, he pleaded, ‘Be gentle with me.’ She laughed, delighted, and took him inside herself. And at last they truly became two-made-one.

♦

Three days. Three days, Fraser spent alone with Victoria in his apartment, making love so often that he ached from it, and still they were both insatiable. It was as if they were snowed in again, isolated from the rest of the world, trapped in a limbo of their own choosing. Fraser only left so that he could use Mr. Mustafi’s phone to call in to the Consulate requesting a leave of absence, to order a delivery of pizza, to ask Willie to bring him a bag of groceries. Victoria didn’t leave once. They barely even left the bed for hours at a time.

The pleasure of it was intense, unfathomable, bruising, wonderful. They learned everything about each other that they could.

Ray showed up the first morning, worried enough to consider kicking the door in: he assumed that for the Mountie to miss work, Fraser must be desperately ill. It didn’t take long for Ray to deduce what Fraser’s absence was actually caused by… The man’s reaction seemed to reduce the whole affair to something approaching crudeness, but Fraser couldn’t fault Ray’s enthusiasm. And, really, his concern and then his support were heart-warming.

Fraser gazed at this man he’d been half-in-love with, somewhat taken aback to realize he hadn’t once thought of Ray since, well, since Victoria had begun haunting him. But perhaps that was inevitable…

As soon as Ray had left, Fraser and Victoria immediately returned to bed.

♦

The next time Ray visited, it was four o’clock on Saturday morning, and the lovers had been asleep. Understandably, though he wouldn’t admit it, Ray was upset over Fraser missing a party Ray had arranged for Friday night. Fraser’s apology did not appease Ray; soon Fraser’s best friend was leaving in a huff.

Fraser quickly began dragging on some clothes.

‘I’m sorry,’ Victoria said.

‘It’s not your fault,’ Fraser assured her. He grabbed his Stetson, and said to her, ‘Don’t go anywhere,’ before he ran out the door.

Fraser caught up with the Riviera at a traffic light. ‘I’m sorry, Ray,’ he said.

‘Yeah,’ was the unimpressed response.

‘It’s just that I made a mistake once, and I can’t make it again.’ This was difficult, but of course Ray deserved the heartfelt truth. ‘There are certain things that you’d live to regret in your life, and losing your friendship would be one of them. And losing her –’

He didn’t have the words. But then Fraser heard something that demanded their immediate attention.

‘Gunshot.’

Fraser ran back into his apartment to find Victoria gone, the furniture overturned, Diefenbaker shot… And it all got worse from there.

♦

Fraser found Victoria at her hotel early the next morning, panicking and preparing to leave Chicago. Her old partner Jolly had escaped from prison, and Jolly was assuming that Victoria had the money they’d stolen from the bank.

As she haltingly told Fraser half the story, Victoria explained, ‘I’m not exactly a trusting person; people tend to let me down.’

‘Not this time,’ he quietly vowed. For he loved her.

♦

Jolly was discovered, shot dead.

That night, after the initial investigation was over, Fraser returned home to find Victoria waiting for him. She readily admitted to killing Jolly, but fearing a return to jail she wouldn’t turn herself over to the authorities. ‘Have you ever been in prison?’ she pleaded. ‘Do you have any idea what it’s like to watch your whole life go by, to watch everything you want go away, and know that you can never get it back?’

‘You can’t run away from this,’ Fraser said.

‘Why not?’

‘I promise you I will do everything, I mean _everything_ in my power to help you.’ He had never made such a solemn oath.

‘You won’t go away?’ she asked, lightly, though it meant the world to her.

‘Never. I won’t let you down.’

‘Not this time.’ She had that deadly look in her eye.

♦

But Victoria disappeared again… And there was no trace of her, not even any fingerprints at Fraser’s apartment.

Robert Fraser showed up to offer his advice. ‘She’s not coming back, son.’

‘You don’t know her.’

‘Neither do you.’

Benton turned on him. ‘Did you know Mum?’ he demanded. ‘I mean, did you know who she really was, or did you know who you wanted her to be?’

They argued, for perhaps the first time since Benton was a child. ‘She deserved better,’ his father concluded. ‘Your mother deserved better.’

‘No, she didn’t! She deserved _you_.’ Benton said, ‘I’m not going to make the same mistake. Victoria is in trouble. Now, she scares the hell out of me, I don’t even know if I can help her, but I know that I need to be here. And I know who she is.’ Indeed, he knew her better than he’d ever known any woman.

♦

She was setting him up. It soon became obvious that Victoria Metcalfe was setting Benton Fraser up for the biggest fall of his life. She’d planted a significant amount of the bank money at his father’s cabin in Canada, and had also slipped a number of stolen bills into his wallet. She’d shot Jolly with Fraser’s gun, so Fraser was soon under investigation for corruption and under arrest for murder… And Ray had been implicated in all this, too, because Fraser had innocently passed some of the money to him. To exacerbate the situation, Victoria was officially considered dead, and the guilt therefore seemed to belong only to Fraser.

Ray mortgaged his family home in order to make Fraser’s bail. ‘You can’t do that, Ray,’ Fraser protested. ‘It’s too much.’

‘Are you gonna skip on me?’

It was a rhetorical question; even so, Fraser immediately and honestly answered, ‘No.’

‘Then there’s nothing to worry about.’ And Ray sounded so utterly certain. He was the best friend Fraser had ever had.

‘You should take the deal,’ Fraser advised him once Ray had driven Fraser home. There was no point in Ray’s career suffering any further for Fraser’s sake.

‘I haven’t been offered one.’

Fraser looked at him, knowing how these things worked. ‘You should take it anyway,’ he said, before opening the Riviera’s door.

‘Hey, Benny.’ Ray waited until Fraser turned to him again, before vowing, ‘Not in your lifetime.’

A moment passed between them, born of Fraser’s love and Ray’s faith. But of course everything was too complicated now, and in any case Fraser loved Victoria, he had pledged himself completely to her. And she had… gone.

Fraser lit every candle in his apartment in an effort to summon her. ‘She’s not coming back to you,’ his father announced. ‘And why in God’s name would you want her to?’

‘Because,’ Benton replied. ‘Because I… Because I need…’ But he couldn’t force the words past the tears. ‘Oh God.’

‘You’re not going to get it. Sometimes in life all you need is that second chance, and that’s the one thing you’re not going to have.’

The summons worked, in a way: she called him on Mr. Mustafi’s phone. She told him where he could meet her.

‘You must really hate me for what I did,’ he said to her as they faced each other. Her expression, once mobile and full of warmth, was now closed and cold, hard and drawn.

‘Yeah. Hate. Love. Those two emotions about cover it.’

The tears were threatening again. ‘What do you want, Victoria?’

‘You.’

‘No, you don’t,’ he said as gently as he could.

‘Why do you think I did all this?’

‘Revenge.’

‘Maybe. But I _need_ you.’ And she meant it, or at least thought she did. ‘I want you to go away with me.’

‘You know I can’t do that.’

‘Why not? You don’t have much to stick around here for. And you won’t like prison.’

‘I’m sorry,’ he said, turning her down.

‘I’m sorry, too.’

But she wanted him to exchange her money, traceable due to its sequential serial numbers, for diamonds. And if he didn’t, she’d tell Internal Affairs about a key in Ray’s house, a key that would lead them to more of the money, a key that would implicate Ray even further in this awful mess.

Fraser turned the Vecchio home inside out while looking for that key. And at last he saw it in a snowglobe. He held the globe in his hands, watching the snow fall within the perfect isolation of the glass sphere, the purity of this self-contained little world. Victoria had come here intending to systematically destroy him – and then, as trapped by the love as Fraser was, she instead began destroying everyone and everything that tied him to Chicago, so he’d have no choice but to go with her, he’d have less than nothing to stay for… If she hadn’t tried to destroy Ray Vecchio as part of her plans, perhaps Benton Fraser would have let her succeed.

He let the globe slip through his fingers to smash on the floor, and then he crouched to carefully pick up the key from the midst of the water and the broken glass.

♦

From then on Fraser worked on setting Victoria up: he undertook the exchange for the diamonds, and he arranged for Ray to meet him and Victoria at the train station so that the Detective could arrest her.

With his and Ray’s and Victoria’s and Dief’s lives in the balance, he had no time to cope with any distractions. When a lady approached him because her purse had been stolen, asking, ‘Can you help me, please?’ he was forced to reply, ‘No, ma’am, I’m afraid I can’t.’ His priorities had rarely been so cruelly demanding.

Everything went according to his hastily sketched plans… He and Victoria faced each other on the train platform as the train slowly began pulling out. The diamonds were scattered across the concrete, lost to her, and Victoria held Ray’s back-up gun on him. ‘You son of a bitch, you set me up – I should have shot you!’

He offered her the truth, the hard-learned truth. ‘And I should have let you go.’

‘Well, you’re going to this time,’ she told him. And she climbed up onto the train, and Fraser was standing alone there on the platform, and Victoria was on the train pulling away from the station, and she cried out to him, ‘Ben, come with me!’

He stared at her, overwhelmed by visceral memories of ten years of loneliness, of repression, of bitterness.

‘Come with me! You’re gonna regret it if you don’t.’

Ray appeared on the far side of the platform, with his colleagues.

Fraser glanced at them. This was the crux of the matter, his second chance, his last opportunity to make a different decision. He began running after the train. If his love wanted to destroy him, so be it. Victoria stretched her hand out towards him, and he reached out to her. No matter how fast Fraser ran, Ray was keeping pace with him…

…but at last he caught up to her, and leapt onto the train and into her arms.

In that very moment something slammed into his back, and a shot rang out, and Fraser’s body went horribly numb. His legs would no longer support him. He added it up even as he was falling, stunned, collapsing back to the train platform. The train was leaving, and Victoria with it. And Ray had shot him.

The cold was terrible. ‘I should be with her,’ he said to Ray as the man leaned over him. Willing the snow away, Fraser somehow found the long-ago memory of words he’d barely been conscious of at the time. _I caught this morning morning’s minion, kingdom of daylight’s dauphin, dapple-dawn-drawn Falcon_ … But the darkness hidden inside of him began seeping, spreading through him borne by the night’s cold, until he feared there was room for nothing else.

♦

He was angry. Benton Fraser was righteously furiously angry. And it took him a while to realize he was angry at himself, for he spent a long ignoble time taking it out on Ray, who stuck so close to him, who was so loyal and persistent a friend.

Fraser was angry that he’d lost his love; he should be with her, in every moment that passed he knew he should be with her. Somehow, at the exact same time, he was also angry that he’d decided at the last minute to go with her, and neglect all duty, all honor, all respect. He was of course furious with his invalid’s body, and the slow progress it was making towards health. He was even angry that Ray was so forbearing, and wouldn’t once tell Fraser off for breaking his promise and attempting to skip bail. He was angry that his best friend had shot him, that was a simple enough truth. And he was angry with Victoria, for not… for not taking him with her regardless. He was angry with himself.

It felt good, this anger. It felt pure. Fierce. For a long while Fraser feasted on bitterness.

But eventually Benton Fraser forgave Ray, and forgave himself, and decided he’d better get on with his life even though his love was gone. His expectations and his hopes and his joys, however, felt as if they were forever blighted. It was as if part of him, one of the best parts of him, had died.

♦

## PART FOUR: 1995

Sooner than he could have believed possible, Fraser fell half-in-love all over again. The object of his affections was impossible in two vital ways: she was his superior officer; and, while he suspected she was attracted to him, too, she kept her feelings as tightly reined-in as he did. Despite this – or, perhaps more accurately, because of it – Inspector Meg Thatcher delighted him. And he delighted her so much that she was determined to chastise him at every opportunity, and fire him or send him back to Canada, and indeed do _anything_ rather than admit she yearned for him… Benton Fraser understood that well enough.

As for Ray Vecchio, he and Fraser seemed closer than ever. They hadn’t really talked about Victoria and the chaos she’d caused, but the experience – or perhaps the shared aftermath – had somehow brought them together rather than torn them apart. In the months of Fraser’s recovery, Ray had demonstrated his loyalty again and again: taking a bullet for Fraser; saving their lives after a plane crash in the wilds of Canada; risking drowning in order to foil a bank robbery. When Ray was thrown into jail for contempt of court simply because he was standing on his principles, Fraser felt the least he could do was assist and protect the man, even though that involved the Mountie earning himself a criminal record, and joining Ray in jail.

Victoria had been correct: Fraser didn’t like prison, though naturally enough he made the best of the experience.

Of course, no matter how honorable the motives behind it, the incident did not look good on Fraser’s personnel file, especially after all the suspicions against him raised by the Victoria Metcalfe affair… Fraser expected Inspector Thatcher to deal harshly and irrevocably with him and with his career.

She had asked him to make everything easier for her by requesting a transfer back home to Canada. Of course the ghost of Robert Fraser was enthusiastic about the idea, and immediately began discussing the pros and cons of various postings. Fraser contemplated the notion, surprised to discover that he didn’t actually want to leave Chicago. Until now, he’d have thought he’d jump at the chance; but the fact was that he wanted to stay here. He tried not to think too hard about how much Ray Vecchio had to do with this change of heart.

At least Ray’s advice helped give Fraser the courage to defy the wishes of his superior officer and his father. Ray had been right: Fraser should stand up for himself more often. Or at least when it really mattered.

On the day Fraser undertook to explain his decision to the Inspector, he found her attired in a somewhat more casual manner than usual. She was everything that was perfectly proper, of course; but her blouse was of a soft fabric and a generous cut, and its top button was undone, added to which her hairstyle was less tamed than he’d ever seen it before. All of which had his heart gentling in reaction. She must have been aware of the effect she had on him.

‘Sir,’ Fraser began, ‘I would like you to know that I have given very serious thought to the matter of a transfer.’

‘And?’ she prompted.

‘While I find the prospect of returning home appealing, I would prefer not to leave at this time. I’ve come to feel that I, um…’ He found himself searching for the right words, even though he’d rehearsed this a dozen times.

The Inspector rescued him. ‘You feel that maybe in some small way you have something to offer them.’

‘Yes, sir.’

He’d been expecting accusations of insubordination at the very least. Instead, Meg Thatcher seemed to soften towards him, just the barest amount. In fact, she smiled at him, conveying some approval and maybe even a little fondness. Some kind of understanding passed between them.

And then she said in her formal voice, ‘Dismissed.’

‘Yes, sir.’

♦

Benton Fraser had been shot in the thigh while protecting – of all people – Gerard, the man who had murdered his father. It was a wound he bore with patience and wry pride. He was following the regimen of physical therapy very strictly, and he felt he was recovering well within the expected parameters, so he was a little surprised when the treating physician at the hospital asked him to visit for an un-scheduled follow-up.

‘I’m feeling fine,’ he said in response to Dr. Ryan’s initial query. ‘If it wasn’t for the wound, I’d be presumptuous enough to declare that I’m in the best of health. Have you detected a problem with my progress?’

‘No, no; your leg is healing perfectly. _I_ should have your powers of recovery… But I have another concern, Constable Fraser.’

There was a moment of silence. Fraser waited through it expectantly.

‘There’s no easy way to break bad news, Constable, as I’m sure you’re aware.’

Ah. No doubt the news wasn’t really anything too awful. Endeavoring to smooth the man’s way, Fraser said, ‘Of course you need to assess each individual, Doctor, and his or her internal stores of fortitude, but I’ve always felt it’s best to tell the news simply and clearly.’

‘Very well.’ Dr. Ryan cleared his throat, and sat back in his chair, then looked directly at Fraser sitting there by his desk. ‘A certain number of tests are done for each patient in this hospital as a matter of routine, Constable. I assume, from the information you gave at the time you were admitted, and from what you’ve said today, that you are unaware of your current condition.’ Another moment passed. ‘I’m afraid that you’ve tested positive for the human immunodeficiency virus, commonly known as HIV. It is the virus that can lead to AIDS.’

Fraser sat there staring at the man, absolutely stunned.

‘Constable, this isn’t necessarily a death sentence. I won’t trivialize the risks involved, but with the proper care and attention…’ The doctor faltered for a moment. ‘Your condition may not worsen for years, even a decade or more, and there are advances being made every day in research. While we wait for a cure, there are preventative treatments –’

Finally overcoming the inertia of shock, Fraser held up a hand to stop the man. ‘I am aware of the current situation, Doctor. In my line of work, it is necessary to be informed.’

‘Of course.’ Ryan seemed to relax a little. ‘Your job carries risks, like mine does. This isn’t as direct as a bullet, I suppose, but it’s something many of us face. I had a nurse working for me, she was jabbed by an infected needle. There’s no justice in it, no rhyme or reason…’

Fraser nodded vaguely, acquiescing to the doctor’s conclusions.

‘You can’t always be sure exactly when it happened; the virus can take up to twelve weeks to appear.’ When Fraser nodded again, the man continued, ‘Well, I don’t suppose I need to load you up with reading material. I’d like to refer you to a counsellor, though. There’s one I know whose husband was a cop, so she might be –’

‘That won’t be necessary,’ Fraser said.

‘No?’ Dr. Ryan indicated Fraser’s paperwork. ‘It seems you don’t yet have a primary care physician here in Chicago. Let me know as soon as you’ve found one, and I’ll forward all the information I have.’

‘Thank you, Doctor.’

Ryan sat back in his chair, and considered Fraser with cool sympathy. ‘Constable, tell me what else I can do for you.’

‘There’s nothing –’ He tried to smile in reassurance, and almost succeeded. ‘There’s really nothing.’

‘You should check your policies back at work: you probably need to inform your supervisor.’

Fraser stood up. ‘Yes. Thank you, Doctor.’

Ryan stood as well, and shook his hand firmly. It was a kind gesture. ‘Good luck, Constable.’ And he watched with some compassion as Fraser walked stiffly out the door.

Fraser had wasted too much of his recent past in righteous anger, and he didn’t want to do that again. But the only alternative right now seemed to be numbness, a horrible dull kind of numbness. He feared what might happen if it ever wore off.

♦

Inspector Thatcher must be informed: RCMP policy did indeed require that; Fraser could have quoted the document word for word. He was required to tell her immediately, which was a blessing in a way, for he wouldn’t waste any time fearing the confrontation.

He stood at ease before her desk, though of course he wasn’t at ease at all, and he broke the bad news simply and clearly, speaking to a place on the far wall about three feet over her head. Silence was the only reply. When Fraser was finally brave enough to look down at her sitting there, leaning against the back of her chair, he found nothing but sorrow and compassion.

‘Oh, Fraser…’ she at last murmured, and she sounded heartbroken.

‘I’m sorry, ma’am,’ he offered.

‘Don’t apologize, for God’s sake.’

‘This may well be an inconvenience.’

She shook her head, and then pulled herself upright. ‘You mean the job. Well, I’ll need to check the regulations, confer with Ottawa –’

‘The relevant policy allows for me to continue in liaison work, ma’am,’ Fraser said, cutting her off as politely as he could. He’d prefer as few people knew about this as possible, and he fervently hoped that had more to do with privacy than shame. ‘Of course there are issues relating to active duty –’

‘Which don’t apply here, except for your unofficial work with that Detective friend of yours –’

‘If you could leave that situation to me to deal with, ma’am, I’d appreciate it.’

Thatcher frowned up at him. ‘But that’s how you caught it. Isn’t it? During police-work, or giving first aid. There’s a danger in continuing… Or am I leaping to incorrect conclusions?’

Fraser closed his eyes for a moment. He couldn’t lose his partnership with Ray. Not yet, at least. And therefore the truth was called for. ‘There are risks in police-work, yes, ma’am, but I am certain there hasn’t been a situation here in Chicago where infection could have taken place. I have taken every precaution.’

‘Then, how?’ she demanded.

The words would not be spoken.

‘I’m discounting drug abuse. Which leaves sexual transmission.’

He nodded once.

‘You don’t practice safe sex…?’ She seemed horrified, as well she might.

‘It didn’t seem necessary,’ he faltered, ‘at the time.’

A terrible silence ensued. At last Inspector Thatcher said, oh-so-quietly, ‘I expected more from you, Constable.’ Oh-so-deadly in her disappointment.

‘Yes, ma’am.’

‘I expected more sense.’

‘Yes, ma’am.’

‘Give me one good reason why I should condone you continuing your current activities. Why should I trust you not to endanger the lives of the people you come into contact with every day?’

He put all his sincerity into the plea. ‘I made a mistake, ma’am, I behaved irresponsibly, and I have learned from it. I may not have earned a second chance, but I would appreciate you bestowing an opportunity for me to atone in the only way I know how…’

She considered him at length, and he didn’t doubt that she saw through to the heart of his contrition. Eventually she said, ‘All right. Dismissed, Constable,’ and he left her office. His every step seemed heavier that day.

♦

Fraser had long accepted that when Victoria came to Chicago her initial aim was to destroy everything that he was. Then, having rediscovered their love, she instead aimed to destroy everyone and everything that bound him to his new home. If she’d succeeded, as she very nearly did, Fraser would have lost his career and his reputation as a law-abiding citizen; having been thrown in jail for crimes he did not commit, he would have lost his freedom and the prime years of his life. Worst of all, Ray would have lost his own career and reputation and freedom and perhaps his home, and the man’s family would have suffered, for no other reason than that Ray stood firm beside Fraser. Surely even a man of Ray Vecchio’s steadfast loyalty would have withdrawn his friendship under such terrible circumstances…

Losing Ray’s friendship. The fact that Victoria deliberately destroyed Fraser’s health should come as no surprise after all the rest of her plans were laid bare. And, from her point of view, no doubt Fraser going on the run with her would seem preferable to living his last days alone in a hospice somewhere. Going with her would indeed have been an act of self-destruction. Ray had unwittingly saved Fraser from himself, though no one could save Fraser from the results of loving Victoria Metcalfe.

Fraser surmised that she’d been infected with HIV while in prison, and therefore she blamed him for it. She’d shared needles, perhaps, or was forced by circumstance to have unprotected sex. It had seemed important to her to demonstrate exactly what she had been through: if he wouldn’t go with her, then she wanted him to be friendless, jailed for murder, and infected with a death sentence.

Seeing her again, he had been spellbound, he had been deeply in love. Which, of course, explained his behavior rather than excused it. He’d trusted her word, he’d honored her assurances; after all, if _he_ hadn’t engaged in risky practices during the past ten years then why should he assume that she _had_?

Fraser was too much the coward to tell Ray. He meant to, but he didn’t. Every day he woke with the best of intentions, but found he couldn’t bear Ray’s no-doubt scathing reaction to hearing of Fraser’s foolishness. It was unforgivably selfish of Fraser, of course, because every day they were in danger of situations where contaminated blood could be spilled and exchanged. Something of Fraser would die if he were responsible for harming Ray any further. And yet he didn’t warn the man of the risks.

Instead Fraser took every conceivable care. That was nothing very new, so Ray didn’t notice any significant change in routine. And Fraser took it upon himself to re-educate everyone in the Violent Crimes Unit about proper first aid procedures. If ever anyone treated him, he wanted to ensure they wore the gloves and the goggles, and followed the safest practices. They all listened tolerantly, but of course they looked at him askance: the Mountie had climbed up on yet another soapbox…

It wasn’t enough, but for now it would have to do. Fraser only prayed that Ray’s detecting skills wouldn’t uncover the secret before Fraser was ready to tell him.

♦

Meanwhile, Fraser was still half-in-love with Meg Thatcher, and despite all the odds against it he suspected that she still felt the same way about him. There were confusing encounters in the office, halting words and gestures, gazes averted; there was the occasional date for coffee, if they’d both been working late, which they could pretend was due to nothing more than convenience and a friendliness between colleagues; there was her irritation when other women made their intentions towards Fraser too obvious. And then at last the Constable and the Inspector went so far as to kiss…

Of course that was under very specific circumstances. It wasn’t so much the danger they were in that provoked them, as Fraser’s unfortunate characterization of Thatcher as being cold-hearted. She’d been hurt that he didn’t think her as compassionate as he himself was. The only way to assuage his crime was to prove they were both human, they both had wants and needs and yearnings, they both cared. So he kissed her, on top of a speeding train. It was rather… stimulating. Dramatic. From somewhere, over the months, they’d found the rapport initially lacking.

She told him it couldn’t happen again. That was his superior officer talking, so he was required to listen. Even so, he had trouble obeying her order to erase the incident from his memory. He suspected she was having exactly the same trouble.

After giving the matter some thought, however, Fraser came to the inevitable conclusion that it would take a great deal of courage and self-sacrifice to love a man with HIV… Indeed, it would take an amount of courage and sacrifice that he couldn’t expect from anyone. Even Meg Thatcher, who amply displayed those qualities in her professional life, couldn’t be expected to throw away her personal life.

On the evening following the aborted trial of Randall Bolt, the Constable made the Inspector a cup of coffee, took it into her office and placed it before her. ‘May I have a moment of your time?’ he asked, standing at ease in front of her desk.

‘Of course.’ When she sensed his hesitation, she wrapped her hands around the coffee as if seeking its warmth, and asked, ‘Would you prefer to sit?’

‘Thank you, ma’am.’ The desk remained between them, but the atmosphere became a little less formal.

Another silence stretched. Their relationship seemed defined more by all the things they _didn’t_ say, all the things they weren’t brave or foolhardy enough to do. Finally Thatcher said, ‘You wanted to say something, Constable?’

‘Yes, ma’am.’

‘Perhaps you could start by calling me Meg.’

He turned to face her directly, yearning and protesting in equal measure. This was not the time for her to make any tentative advances. As gently as he could, Fraser said, ‘I don’t think that would be wise, ma’am.’

She immediately withdrew behind a more professional expression. ‘All right, Constable. What did you want to say?’

‘Ma’am, you asked me to forget our… contact. And while I have had difficulty in doing so, I believe you were absolutely correct in your request.’ For a moment he feared she would interrupt him, so he pressed on in an effort to get it all said. ‘I have been most presumptuous since then; I have complimented you in unsuitable ways, I have endeavored to remind you of something you wanted to forget. I must apologize for that.’

‘Fraser, please don’t –’

‘I have been behaving inappropriately,’ Fraser said, overriding her. ‘Completely inappropriately. Especially as you know…’ He looked at her, met her lovely dark eyes, and he almost faltered. ‘In fact, you know better than anyone, that in my condition I have very little to offer anyone.’

Something inside of her crumpled. Perhaps, if she had been a different woman, she would have been close to tears. But Meg Thatcher wasn’t like any other woman, and he loved her all the more for it.

‘I had no right to relate to you in such an unprofessional manner,’ Fraser concluded. ‘I will not continue to do so. I apologize for such a lapse in decorum.’

A long silence stretched. Eventually, her voice shaking slightly, she asked, ‘Is that all, Constable?’

‘Yes, ma’am.’

‘Apology accepted,’ she said. ‘Dismissed.’

♦

And that was that. No more loose ends. Fraser prepared to continue with his life, though nothing could ever be quite the same. He had lived chaste before, and he would do it again. The reasons why were somewhat different now, but that was of no great importance. He was a gentleman, and he must live accordingly; and, anyway, there were so many blessings in his life, so many things to be grateful for. It would do.

♦

## PART FIVE: RAY

With a sense of timing that had Fraser, in undisciplined moments, feeling alarmingly poignant, Ray began showing signs that he was becoming aware of his more tender feelings for Fraser… Once more, the safest course of action for Fraser seemed to be obliviousness and confusion. Though he wondered how long it could be before his best friend, the man who knew him as thoroughly as anyone ever had, saw through the ruse.

Meanwhile, there were charming incidents. When Fraser had been kidnapped by Charles Carver, Ray had found him; when they both ended up trapped in the back of a wrecked car that was about to be crushed, Ray had held Fraser’s hand for the sake of reassurance, and the length of his thigh had pressed hot against Fraser’s… When Francesca Vecchio renewed her campaign for the Mountie’s affections, her brother had seemed quite jealous and protective. ‘You’ve got to pick the dreams that have a _chance_ of coming true,’ he’d advised her, not knowing that Fraser could hear him. ‘Yeah, of _course_ I have dreams, and they’re not so far from yours – but at least I’m realistic…’ And when Fraser recovered from a bout of amnesia, Ray’s first reaction had been, ‘Benny, I could kiss you!’ To which Fraser had blurted, ‘Oh, I thought we were just friends,’ feeling alarmed and delighted all at once. ‘Oh, we are,’ Ray responded, before launching back into the case they were working on.

It was becoming more and more difficult for Fraser not to acknowledge that his heart raced every time he met those candid hazel eyes; to pretend that he was unaware of Ray’s own physical reactions to him, subtle though they were. It was quite the conundrum: there was Fraser, blithely using his finely honed powers of observation and detection every day, and yet continuing to ignore what was beside him every step of the way. No doubt Ray still thought Fraser an innocent, but the cop wouldn’t let him get away with this forever.

And yet it was all quite doomed. There could be no consummation of this love, and to endeavor to requite it on an emotional level alone would eventually result in disappointment and heartbreak; Fraser could never ask the sensual Ray Vecchio to remain in love yet chaste… Better that nothing was ever said. Better to continue as the closest of friends, and never put their finer feelings to the test. Better to deny his own part in this.

But he feared that Ray wouldn’t let it go.

♦

It was Friday evening, and the end of a long week. As Fraser settled into the passenger seat of the Riviera, he noticed that Ray hadn’t yet turned the ignition. Other police officers walked by, on their way into or out of the station. At last Ray said, ‘Do you want to have dinner with me? I feel like something good, lots of pasta and bread.’

‘Yes, I’d like that, Ray.’ Fraser indicated the wolf currently sitting upright and eager in the back seat. ‘And Diefenbaker…?’

Ray cast him a tired look. ‘Can we drop him off at Willie’s? I’m not up to feeding and walking him tonight.’

Fraser agreed, and they set off. Soon he was sitting opposite Ray in a rather elegant Italian restaurant, and they were sharing a generous meal. The companionable silence was broken only by desultory talk of the week’s caseload, until finally, as they were taking their time over a cappuccino and a chamomile tea, Ray asked, ‘What do you have faith in, Fraser?’

‘I beg your pardon?’

‘What do you believe in? You’re not religious, right?’

‘No, I’m not.’ Fraser let a moment drift by, but decided he owed Ray a full and honest answer. ‘I believe there’s more to the universe than this life, this short life which is all we are able to know.’

‘So you know there’s more, but you don’t know what exactly.’

‘Yes.’

Ray frowned at him. ‘Doesn’t that bother you? The uncertainty of it?’

‘No, Ray.’ Fraser smiled reassuringly. ‘I simply focus on the here and now, on the things I can understand through my five senses, on my life overall, and I do the best I can.’

A moment passed by, and then Ray asked, ‘Well, do you think there’s an afterlife?’

‘I have no idea. If there is, I’ll focus on it once I’m there.’

Ray shook his head. ‘I like a bit more certainty than that. I like to believe there’s a heaven, and I might have a chance of getting there.’ A narrow look from those hazel eyes, as if daring Fraser to make anything of this. ‘But you’d better be there as well, Fraser. My heaven wouldn’t be heaven unless you were there, too.’

‘Thank you, Ray,’ Fraser said with automatic but genuine sincerity.

‘It’s a date, then.’ And, having settled that to his satisfaction, Ray pulled himself up out of the chair, and walked off to settle the bill.

Fraser was left sitting there wistfully wishing they didn’t have to wait that long…

♦

Ray followed Fraser into his apartment, and waited by the door while Fraser crouched to light the hurricane lamp. Then Ray said, ‘There’s something I have to tell you.’

Fraser watched him through the dimness. Please, not yet, he prayed. ‘Yes, Ray?’ he murmured, just in case he was wrong about where this was leading.

‘Something I have to ask you about,’ Ray continued, rambling verbally while he stood there with his hands in his pockets, shuffling his feet a little. ‘I don’t know when it happened, or why, and it’s about the last thing I ever expected, but…’

‘Please don’t.’

‘…I seem to have fallen in love with you, Fraser.’ A brief silence – and then Ray looked up at him, and asked, ‘ _What_ did you say?’

‘Please don’t talk of this,’ Fraser repeated, though he barely had the voice for it.

‘Oh.’ Ray considered him. ‘So I guess you knew all along, right?’

Fraser almost grimaced, and turned away. ‘Yes.’

‘But you never said anything. And you don’t want me to say anything now?’

‘No.’

An awful pause lengthened. ‘Why not?’

How stupid of Fraser not to have prepared for this moment. Ray was going to require a reason, a good solid reason, for being rebuffed.

‘You think this is easy for me?’ Ray said, his complaints trying to cover for his rawness. ‘I had to do a lot of thinking, and I mean a _lot_ of thinking, to come to terms with this. I’ve fallen in love with a man. That’s… completely out of left field for me. Completely out of the ballpark. But I finally decide I should tell you about it, and maybe even do something about it, and you just –’

‘I’m sorry, Ray.’

‘Sorry. Is that it? Is that all you’re going to say to me?’

‘That’s all I _can_ say, Ray.’

‘You’re sorry. And I thought… You know, I could have sworn you were in love with me, too. At least a little bit anyway.’

Fraser had to close his eyes, because they were suspiciously damp. It was so terribly rude to have turned his back on Ray for almost the entire conversation, but Fraser knew no other way through this.

Silence. Ray eventually shuffled his feet again, took a step or two – when Fraser heard the door open, he didn’t know if he was glad or relieved or devastated that Ray hadn’t been walking towards him. ‘Well,’ Ray offered, ‘I’m sorry, too. That I said anything. Stuff you didn’t want to hear. So, er, I’ll see you on Monday, all right?’

‘Yes, Ray,’ Fraser managed to say with only the barest tremor in his voice. ‘Of course.’

‘Look, I have to thank you, actually. Let me do that now, and I’ll never say anything else like this again. But you’ve been decent about it. I’ve been turned down a lot less gently than that over the years.’ An odd sound as Ray cleared his throat; Fraser prayed it wasn’t an unborn sob. ‘See you Monday, Fraser.’

And he was gone; the door closing quietly, the footsteps heading down the hall.

When Fraser was absolutely positive that the man was out of earshot, he brokenly said, ‘Oh, _Ray_ …’ And he had to scrunch his face up, scrunch his whole _body_ up, in order to hold in the tears. There he was, the Mountie, kneeling on the floor with both arms wrapped around himself, trying not to wail his bereavement…

He’d lost so much: he’d lost his health, his future, his love. It was unforgivably selfish of him, but just for that moment Fraser let himself mourn for all the things he might have been. He’d wanted to grow old and grey, he’d wanted a full career, he’d wanted eight gold stars on his sleeve by the time he retired, he’d wanted to save and to serve, to prevent and to protect, he’d wanted to see justice done. And he’d wanted, oh, he’d so dearly wanted to share all that with Ray… He’d wanted love.

After a while, once the tears had been forced back with only a few spilt, Fraser stiffly clumsily made it to the bed, and he lay down, not caring that he was still fully dressed in his brown uniform. He wondered if his father would appear with gruff words of futile and inappropriate comfort. He wished Dief wasn’t at Willie’s for the night. He lay there alone, unmoving, bleaker than he’d ever been. Eventually, at some unknowable hour of the long dark night, sleep came; a heavy sleep, akin to unconsciousness. It felt like his body’s last awful line of defense.

♦

A brief touch against his face – fingers running down his jaw-line, caressing the sensitive skin under his chin – and Fraser blinked awake. Ray. Ray Vecchio was there, looking down at him with an aching kind of compassion. And it was morning; the sunlight streamed in, proving it was far later than Fraser was used to rising.

Without saying anything, Ray withdrew, and headed for the kitchen. When Fraser pushed himself up further against the pillows, he saw that Ray was making coffee. Bless the man…

Finally Fraser regained enough awareness and mobility to sit up on the side of the bed, feet firmly planted on the floor, elbows taking his weight by resting on his knees. Soon Ray walked over, two mugs of coffee in his hands, and he gave one to Fraser before settling next to him, not too close but not too far away. And they sat there together in silence for a while.

About halfway through the coffee, Ray said, ‘Yeah, I didn’t sleep much, either.’

Still at somewhat of a loss, Fraser didn’t say anything.

‘Benny, I had to come back,’ Ray said. He was very quiet, but firm; as if he’d reached some kind of certainty. ‘I had to try again. At least talk about it. Seriously. I couldn’t stop thinking last night, about what you said. How you said it. What you didn’t say.’ He turned his head to look at Fraser, who studiously examined his coffee. ‘I think you _are_ in love with me. So there has to be a reason why you wouldn’t listen to me.’

Silence.

‘You want to tell me what the reason is, Benny?’

‘No.’

Could that small voice have been his? Fraser had to assume so.

‘Benny, it’s cost me a lot to get this far.’ Patient, but determined. ‘I’m not going to give up without… without _some_ kind of idea what’s going on. You owe me that. Don’t you?’

‘No.’

But that was horribly unfair of him. Ray deserved better, Ray appreciated decency; and Fraser was indeed a more just man than that.

‘Just help me to understand, huh? I’ve never… Um, I’ve never felt like –’

‘Ray,’ Fraser said, cutting in quite rudely, ‘you don’t know what you’re asking for.’

‘Yes, I do!’ the man retorted, apparently stung. ‘Well, I have a good hunch or two about it, anyway, even if I haven’t figured out all the details.’

‘I don’t mean _that_. I mean – In love, Ray, when I’m _truly_ in love, I hardly know myself anymore.’ And Fraser found that he was pleading face-to-face with the man. ‘I do things I never would have done otherwise, I become completely culpable. It’s not something I want to risk again. It’s not something anyone else should suffer for.’

Ray was eager to argue. ‘Well, OK, but you’d be safe with me,’ he declared. ‘I’d never make you do anything you wouldn’t want to, nothing you wouldn’t choose to.’

Fraser shook his head, impatient with himself for not explaining.

‘I like you just the way you are, Constable Benton Fraser, RCMP.’

‘Except,’ Fraser observed with some bitterness, ‘you want me to become your lover.’

‘Yeah…’ Ray breathed in reply. And suddenly he was leaning close, and Fraser found himself frozen in place, caught by that hot hazel gaze. Ray’s lips met his, and then the two men were kissing, and it was like being blessed by the sun in the morning, by the gentle blue skies, blessed by the pure taste of a mountain stream after a long day’s hike…

‘No!’

Fraser broke away, dumped the coffee mug – where, he didn’t see – and strode to the relative safety of the apartment’s far corner, stood there with his back turned to Ray.

‘Benny?’ Concern in the voice, but thankfully Ray stayed where he was.

‘We can’t do this, Ray. Don’t ask me to do this.’

‘Why not?’

A long moment before Fraser found the wherewithal to begin. ‘The Greeks had many myths relating to mortals visiting the underworld. They all involved one essential story. The mortal would _want_ to briefly visit Hades for some good reason; or occasionally he was lured, but there was some kind of consent to the adventure. While there he inevitably partook of a feast. He ate something, and that bound him to the underworld forever after; he was trapped, unless heroically rescued. And even if the mortal did manage to leave and return to our world, he would bring a part of hell back with him; he could not remain unmarked by his experiences and he could never completely escape…’ Fraser raised a contemplative brow. ‘The myths were statements of our mortality, really.’

Still sitting there on the bed, Ray slowly said, ‘That’s not gonna do it for me, Fraser. Maybe you should try an Inuit tale.’

Fraser turned to face him. It was time for the unvarnished truth. ‘Ray,’ he said, simply and clearly, ‘I have been infected with the human immunodeficiency virus.’

Blankness for a moment, as Ray tried to take that in. And then infinite sorrow fell through that beautiful mobile face. ‘Oh, _Benny_ ,’ he murmured, sad though still not quite comprehending. ‘No…’

‘Yes,’ said Fraser.

And then Ray was coming to him, enfolding him in the most gentle of embraces, crooning in his grief, ‘Benny… oh, Benny, caro… my poor Benny-love.’

This unlooked-for comfort almost depleted the last of Fraser’s fortitude. He buried his face against Ray’s shoulder, and fought against a helpless fit of weeping.

‘But how did this happen?’ Ray eventually asked, puzzled, his voice raw. He lifted his head, and Fraser did so, too. ‘How could you possibly –’ Then realization hit the man, and his face went as cold and as hard as steel. ‘Victoria.’

‘I have to assume so; yes.’

Ray pulled away, began pacing, an internal struggle twisting his usually perfect posture. ‘I swore I’d kill her if she hurt you.’ And he was all barely banked-down fury now…

Fraser said, ‘You won’t.’

‘You don’t understand,’ Ray cried out: ‘it’s in my blood.’ Then he grimaced in pain as he realized what he’d said; he apologized by offering a caress of Fraser’s shoulder. ‘Benny, it’s an Italian thing.’

‘There’s no darkness in you, Ray. You won’t kill her.’

Ray already knew he wouldn’t. ‘Why not?’ he asked dispiritedly.

‘You’re an honorable man, Ray.’

They watched each other, as Ray’s wrath metamorphosed into remorse. ‘I have a better reason,’ the man said. ‘Finding her would be such a waste of my time, when I could be here with you. I guess we don’t have long now – at least not as long as I was hoping for. I want to make the most of it.’

‘We’ll have years,’ Fraser assured him. ‘I am on medication. A healthy lifestyle will help my condition, and natural therapies may be of some benefit. I will be your friend and your partner for a decade or more.’

‘You’ll be my lover,’ Ray insisted.

‘No, Ray. Please don’t ask that of me.’

‘But, for God’s sake, Benny – we love each other. That’s too precious to walk away from. Life’s too damned short.’ Again, Ray realized what he’d said; then realized once more the truth of that, and the pain seemed to rip through him.

‘I made a mistake, Ray. I can’t let anyone else suffer for it.’

‘ _I’d_ suffer – if I couldn’t have you.’

Fraser closed his eyes. ‘Please. I made an oath to myself to live chaste.’

‘Break it,’ Ray demanded.

And the man was right there again, kissing Fraser with hungry angry passion; pressing up against him so hard that Fraser had to hold onto him for the sake of balance. It became patently obvious that they both wanted this, at least on a physical level.

‘Please,’ Fraser murmured, when Ray was done.

‘It’s not _Please don’t_ anymore?’ Ray sounded smug.

‘That’s what I meant. Please don’t.’

‘But you want me.’

It was all too much; the emotional torment after such an unrestful night was sapping his strength. ‘Can we sit down?’ Fraser asked.

‘Yeah, of course. I’m sorry.’ Ray took his hand, and led him back to the bed. When they settled, Fraser was pleased that Ray didn’t push any further: he sat beside him, not too close and not too far away, and he let go of Fraser’s hand.

‘Ray,’ Fraser began, ‘I was chaste, until… until I was thirty-three years old. That was my choice, and it was no hardship. But I have to admit, even though it’s my choice again now, I feel chastity has been imposed on me by circumstance, and it has become a burden.’

An eager Ray was about to speak, but he stopped when Fraser lifted his chin to indicate he hadn’t finished.

‘You can take advantage of that, if you choose. You can force the issue, and seduce me. But it would not be the behavior of a gentleman.’

‘Oh.’ Wounded, almost. Ray took his time thinking about that. Eventually he said, ‘You’re being scrupulous, Fraser, when all a gentleman needs to be is careful. You’re a cop; you know as much about safe sex as I do. You’ve sure been lecturing us about prevention lately and –’

Fraser looked pointedly at his friend.

‘God, Benny, you idiot. I should have figured this out before – but who’d have thought it of my inviolate Mountie…?’

‘I’m human, Ray. I’m mortal.’

‘Yes. I know that, Benny.’ Ray looked at him earnestly: ‘All you need to do is be careful – and trust that I’ll be careful, too. I mean, there was a time when maybe I wouldn’t have been, like you couldn’t have guessed. My misspent youth, and all that; I took some pretty stupid risks. But I won’t do that now. So, _trust_ me, Benny. And let me trust you.’

Those last words were the most heartfelt plea Ray Vecchio had ever levelled at him. ‘But,’ faltered Fraser, ‘you’ve always seemed so sure you could never love a man. Ray, if this isn’t really in your nature, why don’t you take the sensible and easy option of remaining my friend, and –’ Fraser ground to a halt.

‘And what?’ Ray asked after a moment.

_The easy option_ …

Fraser looked at the man sitting there beside him. ‘I, er…’

‘What?’

‘I don’t know.’

Ray smiled at him; fondly, like he always did. ‘We’re going to become lovers, Benton Fraser; I promise you that. But not right now. Neither of us is up for that right now. So, I figure you should let me take you out for breakfast – a _healthy_ breakfast – and we can resume this later. What do you say?’

‘Yes,’ Fraser responded. And that’s what they did.

♦

Breakfast at Joan’s coffee shop – oatmeal, with milk, raisins and a sliced banana – was very welcome. Particularly as the meal gave Fraser time for thought; for Ray was sitting opposite him, deep in his own reflections. No doubt they both had plenty to mull over this morning… Anger and protest and sadness took their turns flashing across that mobile, beautiful face; but Ray didn’t impose on Fraser’s thoughts, and Fraser didn’t interfere with Ray’s.

Fraser had to face the fact that loving Ray Vecchio, and being loved by him, was no longer the easy path. Everything had become complicated. Difficult. Dangerous. _Because narrow is the gate and difficult is the way which leads to life, and there are few who find it._ Perhaps he had just found it. Perhaps the faith and the trust and the _spiritual_ love required for Fraser to love this man physically – perhaps all that made this the path that led to life.

Though nothing about Ray himself had changed, despite the man’s growing awareness of his own feelings, and his courage in insisting that Fraser acknowledge them. Nothing had changed in many ways – it would still be luxuriously easy to let go of his concerns, and simply love Ray… Not that Ray wasn’t a challenging and occasionally a difficult person to be with, but Fraser had always found it extremely easy to love the man, and, perhaps more to the point, to be loved by him.

His thinking was growing muddled. But what Fraser assumed he was reaching for was the idea that some good decisions were actually easy to make; they weren’t always difficult. Similarly, some bad decisions were difficult, and some were easy. Victoria had helped him learn that, at least. Yes, the degree of difficulty didn’t always indicate the rightness or the correctness of the decision.

The quote from Matthew might require a re-examination… For now perhaps Fraser could meditate on something from the first book of Corinthians: _And though I have the gift of prophecy, and understand all mysteries and all knowledge, and though I have all faith, so that I could move mountains, but have not love, I am nothing_. And who better than Ray Vecchio to help Benton Fraser learn about love, which _bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things_ … Ray was a wise and worthy choice.

Fraser smiled at his friend. His lover. It was Fraser’s true smile, and it came unbidden, responding to the warmth in those hazel eyes.

‘Are you done here?’ Ray murmured.

‘Yes.’

The two of them walked back to Fraser’s apartment. For want of any clearer ideas about what should happen next, they both sat down on the bed again.

‘You’ve decided to let this happen, haven’t you?’ Ray asked, knowing the answer. ‘I saw it on your face back there.’

‘But are _you_ sure, Ray? Are you sure that this is in your nature? Your comments over the two years of our partnership have indicated some level of discomfort…’

The man shrugged. ‘So, it took me a while to get used to the idea. Anyway, all my doubts, all my fears – none of them mean much compared to what you told me this morning.’

‘I don’t understand.’

‘You’ve gone and got something bad.’ Ray reached to hold Fraser’s hand. ‘I need to be with you, I need to face this with you. I need to give you some good stuff to weigh against the bad. _That_ overrides anything else.’

Fraser nodded, accepting this, though he thought it far too generous.

‘Do you know what overrides everything else right now, though?’ Ray asked.

‘No.’

‘I’m exhausted. I’d say you are, too.’ That warm hand grasped his firmly for a moment. ‘I think we should just lie down here, and get some sleep. We don’t have to undress or anything. Let’s just hold each other, and sleep. What do you say?’

‘Yes,’ said Fraser.

Perhaps in the past Fraser would have stripped to his shorts and undershirt; being scrupulous now he only went as far as his pants and shirt, though he appreciated that at least his feet were bare. Ray, seeing this, did the same, and lay down beside Fraser in his suit-pants and silk shirt, even though they’d end up terribly crumpled. The two men shifted into each other’s arms, Fraser arranged the blanket over them both, and eventually they politely and carefully settled into a position they could sleep in. To hold Ray was like being blessed by the Earth itself.

‘Ray,’ Fraser murmured into the hush.

‘Yeah?’

‘I love you.’

‘Oh God, Benny, I love you, too.’

Fraser cleared his throat, deciding to give the man a little more. ‘In fact, we’ve always had a rapport, Ray… I’ve been half-in-love with you almost since the first day we met.’

Ray laughed gently. ‘Took me a little longer to get with the program, huh?’

‘I think not.’

‘Oh yeah?’

Those hazel eyes flashed up at him, and then Ray settled again. Fraser drew the man slightly closer into his embrace, welcoming him as best he could with his whole body. And, feeling supremely content, Fraser slipped away into peaceful slumber.

♦

When they woke four hours later, there weren’t any words that needed speaking. Companionably, they got up, shared a glass of water, ate an apple each. Watched each other with certainty and candor.

Fraser broke the silence by murmuring, ‘Won’t your family be missing you?’

‘Nah. I’m yours for the weekend, if you’ll have me.’

‘I’ll have you,’ Fraser said.

Ray grinned at him, enjoying the innuendo. ‘I even turned the cell phone off.’ Lifting his expressive brow, Ray asked, ‘What about Dief?’

‘Perhaps we could collect him. Later.’

‘Later,’ Ray whispered. He began walking towards Fraser, who was standing propped against the kitchen counter. ‘Later, after _this_.’ And then Ray was leaning against him, Ray’s off-balance weight pressing his hips and thighs to meet Fraser’s hunger… and they were kissing, respectfully and lovingly and needily. It became very obvious once again that they both wanted this physical interaction: hardness incited hardness, though the sensation was dulled by layers of cloth. Ray’s demanding hands on his back and shoulders felt wonderful, while Fraser let his palms and fingers cherish Ray from his shorn head down to his neatly-rounded rear…

And Fraser found that he hoped it could simply happen like this. Anticipating an easy resolution to their mutual lusts, he took firmer hold of Ray’s delightful _derriere_ , and began purposefully seeking completion by bringing rhythm to their movements.

Ray seemed eager to cooperate, his arms encompassing Fraser, his mouth hungry. But too soon he pulled back, tried to still Fraser’s thrusts. ‘Time for bed, lover,’ the man said, his breath panting. ‘Or it’s all going to be over right here and now.’

Fraser was nothing but yearning.

‘You _want_ it over here and now?’ Ray tentatively asked after a brief examination of Fraser’s expression. ‘But, why? Come on, Benny: let’s do this properly. We deserve that. Don’t we?’

‘I… I don’t know.’

‘It’s our first time. We should make love, something special; we should do it in your bed, such as it is.’

Fraser let his head fall forward, until it was buried safely against Ray’s shoulder.

‘What’s wrong, Benny?’ One of Ray’s lovely hands was rubbing the nape of Fraser’s neck, soothing him. ‘What’s the matter? Is this all too fast for you? We can take our time, if that’s what you want.’

No, that wasn’t it. Fraser shook his head.

‘Maybe, uh, maybe you’re not sure what we’re going to do together. Is that it? Well, neither of us has done this before, with a man, I mean, so I was thinking we’d only try for something simple. Simple and safe. It’ll be fine, Benny.’

Another shake of his head.

‘What, then?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘Ah, Benny…’ Ray sounded sorrowful, but full of patience.

Of course Ray deserved more than this. Fraser lifted his head, and they considered each other for a long moment. Their hunger was still urgently mutual.

‘Well, maybe we should just keep going for now,’ Ray said lightly, his fingers beginning to undo the first of the buttons on Fraser’s shirt, ‘and you tell me as soon as you figure it out.’

Fraser acquiesced to this with a nod, and he started to shakily undo Ray’s shirt in turn. He almost forgot the problem entirely in the happiness of uncovering Ray’s wide shoulders, of slipping the silk down his arms, of lifting his vest to discover the robust dark hair of his chest. It was when they were both bare to the waist, and Ray shifted into his arms for another kiss, and the feel of skin against skin shocked him – that was when Fraser worked it out.

‘I brought a piece of hell back with me,’ he blurted.

Ray stared at him.

‘You shouldn’t touch me.’

‘That’s nonsense,’ Ray said, blunt but using the gentlest of voices. ‘We’ll be careful, that’s all.’

‘This body… is tainted.’ Fraser surprised himself with that. ‘A foolish reaction, maybe, but that’s how I feel.’

‘Benny, I _love_ your body.’ And Ray bent his head to press a kiss against Fraser’s throat, his chest, a nipple. ‘God, if you knew the dreams I’ve had about this body of yours… Such dreams! I couldn’t deny it any longer. I want to make love to your body. I want you to make love to me.’

‘It’s not that I don’t want that, Ray –’

Interrupting him, Ray continued, ‘You’re so much more than a body, anyway. Your heart and your mind and your soul, Benny, I love them, too. Your quirks and your ideals. Ah, the _soul_ of you, Benton Fraser, I love your soul. You said it yourself: we’re more than this short life.’ Ray was imploring him to understand, utterly sincere. ‘The HIV, it doesn’t define you. It’s a part of you – but just a little part. And I can even love that, if I have to.’

Fraser stared at the man, astounded.

‘I _love_ you, Benny, if you haven’t gotten that through your thick skull yet. I love you even more than I thought possible when I came here last night, even more than when I came back this morning. I love you, and to prove that, I want to make love with you with these fallible old bodies of ours… Heavens, it’s not like _I’m_ all pristine or whatever! … What do you say?’

‘Yes.’ What on earth _could_ he say? ‘Oh, _yes_ , Ray.’

‘Come on, then, lover. Time for bed.’

And soon they were lying there naked on Fraser’s narrow bunk. Completely naked not only in body, but in heart and mind and soul as well. It wasn’t like anything Fraser had had before. ‘I never knew,’ he murmured. ‘I never knew.’

Ray lay beside him, propped up on an elbow and overlapping him; warm flesh leaving its imprint, mouth claiming possession. A knowledgeable hand sent Fraser soaring with a few firm strokes.

‘Please!’

Chuckling, Ray asked, ‘Do you want to make it last?’

‘I don’t think I can,’ Fraser confessed.

The pleasantly relentless rhythm never faltered. ‘You are so beautiful,’ Ray was crooning, smiling down at him, ‘so beautiful, Benny…’

A gasp escaped him. ‘Wait!’

‘What, Benny?’ Ray’s touch obediently gentled, slowed.

‘I have to be careful,’ Fraser said, earnestly meeting those loving hazel eyes. ‘I hadn’t thought exactly – Let me be scrupulous this once.’

‘Whatever you need, Benny. We’ll sort out the rules later. What do you need?’

Fraser was already reaching for his pants, locating the folded snowy-white handkerchief. And he held it ready to catch his semen, not wanting to let it spatter Ray. He nodded to indicate that Ray should continue, and the wonderful rhythm began again, the perfect pressure. Ray leaned down to kiss him, intensifying the sensations. But then – perhaps guessing that Fraser must remain conscious of everything that was happening at least for this first time – Ray contented himself with burying his face against Fraser’s throat, biting and sucking and licking the sensitive flesh there –

– and Fraser was coming with a wounded cry, following it up with a joyful one, happy, so eternally gratefully happy that he’d found this love, this truest purest love.

‘That’s it, Benny, my beautiful man, my lover-man, Benny…’

He spiraled down, letting the handkerchief fall to the floor; began offering soft caresses to Ray, who chuckled again.

‘What do you find amusing?’ Fraser asked, knowing he wasn’t being mocked.

‘Nothing. I’m just so damned happy.’

‘I was thinking exactly the same thing.’ Fraser heaved himself up, pushing Ray over to lie on his back. ‘My turn,’ he demanded.

‘Hey, do you hear me arguing? I just –’

Ray’s words failed him as Fraser bent to engulf the man’s long, elegant cock in his mouth. The taste and the heat and the hardness of him was exquisite.

‘Oh God, Benny…’ Ray managed, before pushing futilely at Fraser’s shoulder. Not deigning to withdraw, Fraser wrapped both arms around that narrow waist, and lifted the man’s weight a few inches off the bed. Ray tensed, his thigh muscles pushing strongly up against Fraser’s chest, and with another, ‘Oh God… God!’ the man was coming, pulsing sweet juices into Fraser’s devouring mouth.

Afterwards, Fraser lay down again, and hauled Ray’s quiescent body into an embrace.

‘You’re incredible,’ Ray said when he finally recovered his words.

‘You make me whole,’ Fraser responded, raw. ‘You fill me, fulfil me.’

Ray smiled at him. ‘Idiot,’ he said fondly. And they dozed for a while in each other’s arms, before deciding they’d better go collect Dief.

♦

On the way home from Willie’s, Fraser and Ray detoured to the park, let Dief out for a run, and followed along together at a more sedate pace.

‘I want to hold your hand,’ Ray laughingly confessed.

‘I wish you could.’

They strolled on in the late afternoon sun, steeped in contentment.

Out of the blue, Fraser said, ‘I am nothing, Ray.’ He looked across at his lover, saw his patient frown. There was a slight chill in the air though Fraser was quite comfortable, the trees rustled above them, and the sounds of the city were distinct though they seemed far far away. ‘I am nothing, I have less than nothing, I have nothing to offer you.’ In fact, Fraser felt like an empty vessel; empty, and so flimsy that the sunlight shone right through him. ‘All I have is my love for you, Ray.’

‘Then you’re in luck,’ Ray responded lightly. ‘Because that’s all I want. That’s all I’ll ever need.’

And the two men shared a true smile.

♦

Dinner was two large home-delivered pizzas… Ray and Fraser lost interest in food about halfway through, so Diefenbaker had more than a wolf’s share, and everyone was content. Fraser soon enticed Ray back to his bed, and they lay there together, still mostly dressed, kissing and cuddling so intensely and for so long that Fraser’s lips ended up feeling abused. He loved every minute of it…

At some stage Ray said, ‘I want you to do me a favor.’

‘Anything.’

‘Because I’m gonna be needing to get naked with you soon.’ Ray finally divested himself of the shirt that was open and pushed back past his shoulders; then he unbuttoned and unzipped his pants, and pulled one of Fraser’s hands to rub at his stomach. ‘Check me for broken skin.’

Fraser lifted a brow in surprise.

‘I want you to be able to come against me. So, check me; make sure that it’s safe.’

‘Well,’ Fraser said, endeavoring to take this request in his stride, ‘I’m not sure if a visual inspection is really adequate…’

‘Oh, if I can’t trust a Mountie to be that thorough, who _can_ I trust?’

A moment passed while Fraser considered this. Ray was correct: they had nothing to fear if Fraser’s semen – or blood – contacted Ray’s skin, as long as that skin was healthy and unbroken. ‘All right,’ Fraser said. He trusted himself and his powers of observation; even if a doctor had assured him Ray was safe for whatever activity he had planned, Fraser would still double-check the facts himself.

Fraser sat up on the side of the bed, swinging his legs to the floor, and reached for the lamp, bringing it to the near corner of his father’s trunk. Then he indicated that Ray should sit up against the pillows. The lamp’s glow bathed the pale olive of Ray’s slim belly… Fraser grasped the man’s hips in either hand, and leant close. He began the inspection by pressing a kiss to the skin in question; Ray gave a happy little moan.

‘Does it look OK?’ Ray asked after Fraser had scrutinized him very closely for a while, covering each safe area with dry little kisses.

‘So far, so good.’

‘I love you, Benny,’ Ray murmured, settling back luxuriously as Fraser eased the man’s pants and shorts off for an examination of his genitals and upper thighs. ‘You know,’ Ray said a while later, ‘maybe we’ll never get around to doing anything that needs a condom. But I’d let you, Fraser.’

He looked up at his lover, startled enough to forget about punctuating the last area of examination with a kiss.

‘I’d let you fuck me. Because I love you, and I trust you. I trust you to keep me safe.’ Assuming – correctly – that Fraser was done, Ray slithered down the bed and into Fraser’s embrace. ‘I want you to know that fierceness,’ Ray declared, ‘that joy. I want you to find that in me.’

‘Ray, please…’

‘Not tonight, though,’ Ray added with a chuckle. ‘I’ve got other plans for tonight.’ Mischievously, the man began peeling off Fraser’s already disarrayed clothes. ‘Don’t you trust me, Benny?’

‘Of course I do.’

‘Really?’

Fraser smiled at him, though he knew it was a tight kind of smile. ‘I _have_ to trust you, Ray.’

‘Why’s that?’ They were both naked now, and Ray was arranging Fraser to lie back on the bed, just where he wanted him.

‘Because I love you so much that I will do _anything_ for you, Ray, anything you ask.’

That gave Ray pause, as indeed it should. A moment passed as Ray thought about the matter. ‘Even…’ he tentatively said, ‘even if I asked you to take Frank Zuko down?’

‘You wouldn’t ask that of me,’ Fraser replied with great certainty. ‘Not since Irene. You changed your mind after she died.’

‘Oh. I guess I did. Yeah, and I guess I wouldn’t…’ Ray sounded sad about that.

Fraser let a moment go by. Then he whispered, ‘Make love to me, Ray.’

‘Yeah…’ And the man returned to the moment. ‘I can do that,’ he said, a smile growing.

Ray lay himself down on top of Fraser, fit them together as neatly as if they were made for each other. And then he began moving, gently thrusting himself against Fraser, establishing a wonderfully direct communion between the core of Ray’s sexuality and the core of Fraser’s… It was divine.

To be _known_ , and to be _loved_ regardless – to be thoroughly known, as thoroughly as Ray knew him, and nevertheless to be loved without condition – in fact to be given the very emotion that Fraser had tried to gift the world… Fraser grasped for a way of expressing his gratitude, but words failed him. Oh, to realize that from now on, whether he was alone or with Ray, Fraser need never be lonely again… The power of that went beyond the merely dramatic, right to the heart of the matter.

Fraser lay there quietly, watching Ray as the man moved over him. Ray’s beautiful, mobile face was registering everything the man was experiencing; and Fraser reveled in the congruency of Ray Vecchio, the existential honesty, the clear shining _lightness_ of him…

‘Benny,’ Ray murmured, with a puzzled frown briefly knotting his brow, ‘what are you doing?’

‘ _Loving_ you, Ray.’

‘That’s good. I could do with plenty of that.’

‘I’m glad, because I’m going to continue loving you, every day of my life.’

Ray was in that intense place beyond smiling; he bent his head and kissed Fraser, Ray’s generous mouth moist and warm and involving. When Ray broke the kiss, those hazel eyes provided an intense communion of their own…

…and that was when the spiritual and the physical combined, the love and the lust ignited, and Fraser’s feelings and reactions transcended the mundane here-and-now. It was as if he were being blessed by the universe.

Orgasms swept through them both, though Fraser only became conscious of that as he quietened once more. Something awesome and indescribable had taken place, and it was really only afterwards that he could truly appreciate it. Ray was trembling in his arms, face hidden against Fraser’s throat; and their bodies pressed against each other, still vaguely echoing the thrusts, delightfully slippery with honey-semen. Joy belatedly coursed through Fraser’s veins, tingling his skin alive, sending his heart racing all over again…

‘Ray?’ he eventually murmured. ‘Are you all right?’

‘Yeah,’ Ray replied on a wisp of a breath. ‘God, you’re something else, Benton Fraser.’

‘You, as well.’

Ray lifted his head, and warily met Fraser’s gaze. ‘Oh, God…’ Apparently needing a little distance right now, Ray shakily shifted to sit up on the side of the bed.

Fraser forced himself to move, though he’d rather lie there bonelessly for the rest of his life. He collected a towel from the cupboard, and then crouched before Ray in order to wipe him clean. Safety first… When Fraser was done, he knelt there on the floorboards, patient; when Ray eventually looked at him again, Fraser smiled, and rose for the lightest of kisses.

But when Ray spoke, he sounded worried. ‘I love you, Benny, and I’m never going to _stop_ loving you, but people won’t like it, people won’t understand.’

‘I don’t care.’

‘You know, the Pope doesn’t like it.’

‘I don’t _care_ ,’ Fraser declared, heartfelt; thoroughly abandoning his shyness. Then he belatedly thought to ask, ‘Do you care about the Pope, Ray?’

‘I don’t know. What about the RCMP…?’

‘ _I don’t care_ , Ray.’

‘Well, good.’ He added, ‘I guess I don’t, either, then.’

‘Are you sure, Ray?’

The man stared off into the future for a moment, pensive. Then, when Ray returned to himself, he blessed Fraser with a smile. A true smile. ‘Hey, I’m not gonna go shouting it from the rooftops, Benny, next time you’re chasing some low-life across them – but, no, I don’t care. If people figure it out, they figure it out. There won’t be one of them who isn’t jealous _I’m_ the guy who won you…’

‘You won me?’ Fraser murmured, feeling ridiculously light-hearted. ‘Was it a lucky dip or a raffle?’

‘Neither, you moron. It was a…’ Ray frowned, and avoided his gaze again. ‘It was like a quest.’

‘If you’ve been questing, then – if you won the prize, that means you’re the hero.’

Ray looked heart-achingly doubtful.

‘You’re precious to me, Ray Vecchio,’ Fraser declared. ‘Every facet of you is unique. If I have to spend the rest of my life convincing you that you’re a hero, I will.’ Fraser took both the man’s hands in his. ‘That is my oath to you.’

‘Hey, I’m not arguing. Much. If you really want to spend your last years doing that…’

Fraser smiled up at him; giving Ray his truest smile. ‘I can’t imagine a nobler quest.’

‘Noble? What about doing it for the sheer unadulterated pleasure of being with me?’

‘That, too,’ Fraser declared. ‘I promise you: _that_ , as well.’ And the two men were at last one.

♦


End file.
